Servant of Entropy
by Aspiring Mythmaker
Summary: Driven to the brink, Robotnik awakens an ancient abomination from a forgotten age. The fate of the world hangs in the balance as Sonic races against time to stop the madman's plot-before it's too late. A Sonic Adventure Adapt.
1. Prologue: A Dark Place

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my beta-reader The Great Gonzales, without whom this probably would never have been published. Thank you for your patience._

* * *

**Prologue: A Dark Place**

"_I will not be stopped!_ _I will rule this Sector, or watch it burn to ashes around me!"_

_Emperor Arcturus Mengsk_

* * *

Mold. Stagnant pools. Wall choked with greenery. Beneath layers of grime, the cracked stone columns sagged beneath the ceiling of the underground chamber, seemingly on the brink of collapse.

Yet amongst the filth and fragility, there were several new additions. Steel girders were set in place throughout the room acting as supports for the weakened structure. And the ceiling, once on the verge of collapse, had been reinforced with fresh masonry. So it was that a room which had not been seen in a thousand years was now stable enough for two to stand within it.

The construct that knew itself to be d-113 was at attention, its joints fully extended and perfectly in line with its body, shoulders square and head facing forward. Compact and slender, its chromed metal skin shone brightly against the darkness, even though dirt and grime covered its every surface, from its thin, spindly legs to its long, oval-shaped head. It had no indicators of purpose or rank, for they had become unnecessary in its current duties, and its flat metal "face" had no expression, for there were no emotions to cause them. It stood silently, save for a barely audible humming emitted from its power source, located just below the single turbine embedded in its chest. It had been designed and programmed for spartan efficiency, and so it was.

A faint scratching sound echoed through the room. The robot turned, casually scanning the small fragment of stone that had come loose from the wall. After a few milliseconds, it determined that it represented no danger and returned to its vigil.

Absently, it made a note of its condition as its feet began sinking into the mud below it at a rate of half an inch per minute, which would soon require elaborate measures to extract. It could easily have removed them itself, had it been able to, but with a standing order to remain as it was, it could do nothing but take note and wait. It's "eyes", a complex array of visual receivers, took in everything around it, but only in passing. The majority of its attention was concentrated on the figure standing some three yards in front of it.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik was extraordinary in many ways, not the least of which was his physical appearance. Over six feet tall, he was somewhat above the human norm for height, and so overweight he was almost obese. At the age of forty-three, his brilliant red hair was untouched by gray but beginning to bald, and his unlined face was clean-shaven, save for an almost preposterously large moustache that protruded from the sides of his face like twin brushes. His eyes were protected behind a pair of tinted goggles, which he seemed never to take off, and his hands were likewise clad in white rubber cloves, specially designed for the use of precise tools. He wore a loose-fitting orange jacket, over a black skin-suit, made from an advanced polymer of his own design that fit over him like a second skin.

But perhaps the most extraordinary thing about him was that he was the one of the most intelligent men in the world, and the top of the Global Federation's most wanted list.

At that moment, he stood, arms clasped behind his back, gazing silently at the mural that dominated the far wall. The structure around them had been too weakened by time to support lights, so a series of portable lighting fixtures had been bolted to the floor and directed upon the mural. D-113 mapped the wall in question several times, looking for recognizable text or dialects from which to glean information, but if any text had been present, it had long faded, and only a colored illustration remained, which its programming was not equipped to interpret.

Suddenly Dr. Robotnik turned with a curious expression, as if only just aware that it had arrived, though d-113 knew he had noticed. "Hello Simon," the Doctor greeted in his low, cultured voice.

As it had countless times before, d-113 cross-referenced the word "Simon" through its database and found no adequate comparison. The only reference had revealed it to be some sort of biological identifier, which raised the question as to why it was referred to by such a name. The only answers it could derive were personification due to lack of social interaction, or simply an alternative to save time, but neither choice could be supported with substantial evidence.

Nevertheless, d-113 answered as if it had been addressed by its proper designation. "Greetings Master Robotnik." The words were cold, emotionless, and delivered in a metered rhythm that did little to disprove that a machine spoke them. "What task do you have for me?"

Dr. Robotnik's expression shifted, forming what d-113 identified as a smile. "We'll deal with your assignment later. I'm more interested in the condition of my Empire. Inform me, would you?"

"As you wish," d-113 responded instantly. "Would you like to narrow the scope of your query? The current estimated briefing time for all operations during your absence is 863 hours, 47 minutes, 16 se-"

"Yes, I would," Dr. Robotnik interrupted. "What is the operational status of the Carrier? And keep it short."

d-113 paused momentarily as it sorted through the data, gleaning relevant information from its memory. "The unit is at 100% efficiency, and all ordinances have been allocated, as per your instructions. All simulations are showing positive results, and maintenance drones are applying the exterior paint coating." It paused. "Test runs are detecting fluctuations in the power input to the main cannon, possibly due to insufficient relays."

Robotnik stroked his mustaches pensively. "Perhaps. But are they within limits?"

"Yes, they are. However, multiple system failures could result in instability in the main feed lines, which could-"

"A simple yes will do."

"Yes."

"Very well. And the e-series units? How are they progressing?"

"Currently, there are two operational units, 'Alpha' and 'Beta', and five more units are in the final testing stages. Production is pending on the remaining units due to a supply bottleneck. Viable biological processing units are currently unavailable, and the new Replicated Cybernetics System is not yet prepared."

Robotnik scratched his head, frowning irritably, and then shrugged. "Oh well. If the plan goes smoothly, they won't be needed except as additional administrators. And the prototype systems should be ready soon. Their completion is no longer a high priority. Assign them level 7."

d-113 filed the new order away, considering the change in the Master over the last twenty-three days. When it had left its Master at the dig site, it had been clearly told that the e-series units were to have the highest priority, secondary only to the Carrier. That they were now only level 7, rather than level 1b, meant the operational instructions it had been given would likely change as well. It filed the observation away as well, waiting for the next instruction.

Robotnik, however, seemed to be finished for the moment, turning back to observe the wall he had been looking at earlier. Consulting its directives, d-113 determined that although it was under standing instructions not to speak unless spoken to, it was under more immediate orders to report for its new assignment. "Excuse me sir," it said with its usual lack of inflection, "but I have yet to receive my mission."

Robotnik gave a start and turned quickly. "Hmph? Oh, yes. I've downloaded your mission details onto this disk." He dug into one of his coat pockets, extracting a small memory stick and handing it to his subordinate. "This is to have the highest possible priority. Use whatever means necessary to achieve your objective. Until it is done, I don't want anything to divert you, understood?"

"Yes sir," replied d-113 as its mind reorganized itself according to the Master's orders. No longer could it so much as think about its former objectives. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing but the Mission.

* * *

Dr. Robotnik watched his servant retreat with an amused expression. _Simply amazing, h_e thought to himself. _Who could have guessed that a combat unit would be so well suited to administration? It's a shame the mind won't survive its upgrade to e-series intelligence. I might just miss it._

He snorted. _Might_. _After all, if this project is a success, there won't be a need for things like it anymore._ He looked up at the wall, the worn mural barely visible even with all the lighting he'd installed.

_What need have I for an army if I control a God?_

* * *

(This is a revised chapter. Several corrections have been made.)

Thanks to Lord Kelvin for pointing out some of my mistakes. They have been corrected.


	2. In the Eye of the Storm

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 2: In the Eye of the Storm**

"_There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."_

_Hamlet_

* * *

The behemoth drifted unconcerned through the heavens, a mass of vapor and ice that defied the imagination, dwarfing the pitiful efforts of man and beast to aspire to it. Summits of ethereal white rose up to dwarf the tallest mountains, dipped to form cavernous valleys, only to fold back in once more to rejoin the roiling mass under the gentle ministrations of patient winds. Hundreds of miles long, the storm swept the seas, unmatched in its power, unparalleled in its majesty, a testament to heights that could never be reached. The bank billowed and twisted, flogged by the storm that writhed within, striking at the sea with columns of fire, while tempests beat against the surface, strong enough to sink the so-called "unsinkable" ships of modern day.

As the rising sun gave a gentle kiss unto the seas azure surface, the head of the bank began to eddy, undulating before some massive force. Then, as if by magic, the clouds wavered and parted, revealing the secret contained within: a massive body lay bare before the world, verdant green and lush viridian combining with the dull, dusty brown of solid earth. For perhaps half a minute, the mass was exposed, open to a curious world. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, it began to retreat back into the bank with such suddenness it appeared to be an almost conscious movement.

Of course, there was a reason. It was.

* * *

The Guardian watched intently as the clouds began to reform. Sweat beaded his forehead as he concentrated on his task, and he made no move to wipe it off as it strayed into his eyes. Finally, almost reluctantly, the whiteness once more closed out the sun, seamlessly coalescing back into its original form.

Letting out his breath explosively, the Guardian took a step back from his charge, allowing his hands to slide wearily from the Stone. Drawing his arm across his face, he brushed his sweat-drenched spines out of his eyes with a sigh of relief before bending down to pick up his recently discarded gloves and slipping them back on over his skin.

"That," he said quietly, "was a little close."

Anyone that set eyes on the Guardian would no doubt have trouble classifying him. Many creatures of various shapes and sizes lived upon the surface of the earth, but while similar in form to certain species, he possessed several distinctive features. The fur that covered his body was a vivid scarlet, with a thick but very short coat, save for a small streak of white over his sternum. His frame was broader than the norm, with strong, heavy-set shoulders and a thick chest denoting strength contrary to his size. His limbs were long, and wrapped in sleek muscle that was far denser than nature normally allowed, and ended in large, highly developed hands and feet. His eyes were a shade of blue so dark it seemed almost black, and framed by a forest of sharp red spines that hung down toward the middle of his chest.

The same form could be seen on ancient hieroglyphics and murals, and in the legends and tales surrounding the region now known as the Mystic Ruins: An Echidna.

Millennia of burrowing (and later on mining) had created a powerful body capable of stupendous feats of strength, and small enough to remain fleet of foot. Combining such natural gifts with a hunger for expansion, the ancient Echidna Empire had held sway over vast tracts of land, and demanded tribute from dozens of smaller kingdoms. Like other, similar cultures, they grew prosperous, developing sciences and technologies that even today seem futuristic in design. Massive monuments were built using advanced architectural techniques, and machines of incredible complexity were constructed.

However, as their prominence grew, so did the envy and fear of their neighbors. The Echidna were growing too strong, too fast, threatening to overwhelm everything in their path. In desperation, the surrounding states formed an alliance to match the martial might of the Echidna's and attacked, hoping to smother the fledgling Empire.

What happened next has never been confirmed. There was no record ever made, and even the legends are unclear about exactly what occurred. However, it is said that as the invaders struck into the heart of the Empire, they encountered no resistance. That every city the Echidnas had built had disappeared, along with the people inhabiting them. That every field, every street, every single building had vanished. A few traces of the once mighty civilization had been uncovered since, but there was no clue as to what had happened to its people.

One theory was that they had been wiped out by the invading army, who then claimed they had gone. Another is that the people burrowed deep underground and hid from the invaders. Whatever happened to them, it had been a long held belief that the people had died out long ago.

The Guardian snapped the fasteners of his gloves into place with practiced ease and flexed his fingers against the material. The plain white leather was worn and scuffed, but despite its age, the Guardian held it dear to his heart. A memento of his Father, it had been given to him at a young age, when his hands were growing at an explosive rate, even by an Echidna's standards. After his third pair had grown too small, the former Guardian had given one of his own pair to his son.

"My, my, my boy what have you been eating?" He would say. "Your hands look about ready to swallow the rest of you!"

The Guardian remembered the day fondly and shook his head with a smile. It had always been about his hands. Even before he had been half-grown, they were as large as his father's, and they were even larger now. It was this trait that earned him his name: Knuckles.

Abruptly he shook himself. Fond remembrances could wait. There was still the issue of the problem at hand. Turning his gaze once more to his Charge, he folded his arms in front of him and frowned.

Embedded in the floor on which he stood, the Master Emerald sat regally before him. It was a beautiful stone, pure viridian and untouched by impurities. Its brilliant cut was geometrically perfect, reflecting light from its facets with almost glaring intensity, matched only by the fluorescent glow that seemed to come from within. But by far its most distinctive feature was its size. At nearly three feet in diameter, it would have been the envy of every jeweler in the world, had they known that it existed in the first place.

But they did not. For it had been the duty of Knuckles and each Guardian before him to keep it hidden from the world. And the reason could not have been more self evident as one looked upon its resting place. The Angel Island, as it was called, was a large landmass, roughly three-hundred square miles, dominated by a small mountain on the order of sixteen-hundred feet high, with its base buried in a dense tropical forest. Here and there the canopy opened up to reveal small bodies of water, the result of collected runoff from the slopes above. In and of itself, the Island would have been scenic, even beautiful to behold. But there was one thing about it that made it so distinctive. For if someone had gone to the edge of the Island, they would not have found the comforting ocean waves beating upon the shore. Instead, one would stare down upon the churning ocean, miles below the Island's underside. Rather than resting upon the Earth, it floated high above it.

The secrets of the Island were lost to the sands of time, but one had survived the ages, passing from generation to generation: the secret of the Island's flight, the Master Emerald. Ages ago, the Ancient Guardians had discovered the power of the Master Emerald. At the time, they wisely decided to hide this power from the world, lest it be discovered by those who would use it for evil. And so they devoted their lives to it, learning from it and guarding it, generation after generation. As time went by, they discovered that, with training, they could bend the stone to their will, and use its power to direct the course of the Island. In the age of flying machines, the Island was made to hide within the clouds to avoid detection.

But of late, the stone had begun to act strangely. At times it would take less than a gentle nudge to move the mass in the right direction; other times it felt as if he were trying to move it with his bare hands. Sometimes it would even drift off course, sometimes straying outside the storm a fair distance before he could reassert control on it. Its behavior baffled him at times, but there was no doubt as to its cause.

It had begun acting this way ever since the outsiders had come to the Island.

_He remembered the day clearly. The day Doctor Ivo Robotnik had ridden his massive Death Egg Fortress down in flames and crashed it into the Island. When he ran to investigate, he found the Doctor, unconscious amongst the wreckage and clearly injured. Angry, but curious, he had taken the Doctor back to his home. At times, he looked back on that day, wondering if it would have been better to have agreed with his first instinct, which was to throw the Outsider over the side of the Island._

_It had taken weeks to nurse the strange creature back to health, during which the "Human" regaled him with stories of Sonic, the Evil Blue Hedgehog that had attacked him while in search of the Seven Chaos Emeralds. Knuckles cared little for the human's stories, more intent on getting the Doctor and his massive metal contraption off his Island. However, it had been years since the Echidna had conversed with anyone, so he had tolerated it, even sharing a few of his own. The doctor had seemed fascinated with the Island, particularly with the Master Emerald, and at first the Guardian had been concerned about how interested he had seemed._

_Eventually, the Doctor found new occupation with repairing his contraption. He had spoken several times about needing materials from the Island to repair it, and Knuckles had reluctantly agreed. The strange, metallic beings that did his bidding disturbed the Echidna at first, but eventually he learned to ignore them. As the days passed, the Doctor grew more anxious as the Death Egg's repairs grew closer to completion. When he asked the Doctor about it, the human had cited concerns about the Hedgehog. His telling grew wilder, and he spoke of the creature's many misdeeds daily. It wasn't until the Hedgehog arrived that he took the Doctor seriously._

Shaking his head, he turned from his charge and made his way down the steps that ran up the sides of the ancient structure. The steps were smooth beneath his feet, worn from the feet of generations of Guardians long past. The clouds of vapor were thick as he reached the bottom, but his steps were true, for he had made the same journey many times before. Several times a day, every day of the last thirteen months, since he'd relocated the Stone.

_The Hedgehog had tracked him down, the Doctor had said, and if Knuckles did not stop him, he would surely discover the Master Emerald. Knuckles was unsure at first of the Doctor's claims, but he was less than thrilled about having more Outsiders arrive. For days he fought them, trying to buy the Doctor enough time to get off the Island before Sonic found him. Eventually, he was forced to flee into the tunnels, where, to his dismay, the Hedgehog found the Emerald. It was then that the Doctor showed his true color; attacking both of them, he took the Emerald for himself. The Death Egg was too heavily damaged to take off under its own power. With such a powerful supply of energy so close by, he'd decided to use the Hedgehog as a distraction in order to take it. _

_After that, Knuckles had been forced to team-up with Sonic to defeat the madman and return the Emerald in time to save the Island. It had been close, but the Island was restored, though still carrying the extra load of the Death Egg. It had taken another encounter with the Doctor to finally remove the machine, and he'd reluctantly fought alongside Sonic at that time too. And while he still harbored some reservation concerning the Outsider in the end he'd gained a grudging respect for his cocky ally._

But somehow, during that time, the Stone had changed. Knuckles still hadn't found out why, but if this morning's incident was any indication, it was only going to get worse. He'd caught this one early, but it had begun to happen more frequently, and not just during the day. He'd been forced to camp beside the Stone in case it changed course during the night. It was almost as if the stone was learning when the best time was to act. Almost as if-

Knuckles turned back and gave the stone a long, worried look.

-as if it had a mind of its own.

* * *

As the sunlight lay full on the clouds, there was no sign of the secret that lay within its soft confines. Not that anyone would have seen it. Drifting over the vast expanse of water known as the Great Western Sea, it was far from land, and the prying eyes of civilization. For years the Island had drifted across the world, and for years, even in a sky full of airplanes and modern detecting equipment, it had yet to be deliberately discovered.

Which was not to say it couldn't be found.

The fast-moving object skimming over the surface of the water seemed oblivious to the storm it was flying into. Lightning scored the waves, and waterspouts tore at the surface, but they were farther within the storm. After traveling only a few hundred feet beneath the clouds, it suddenly pulled into a steep ascent, boring through the fluffy expanse into the bottom layer of clouds. Seconds later it cleared the thick layer of vapor and ice and paused as it surveyed the mass of rock hovering above it. For a moment it stayed there, making no movement at all as it gazed up at it. Then it continued its climb, hugging tight against the cliff-face to avoid detection and setting down just over the edge. Glancing around stealthily, it made for the tree-line, crossing the small open area in swift silence before stopping just short of the concealing greenery.

d-113 turned and looked around one more time before ducking under the foliage and disappearing into the forest.


	3. Empty Words

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Empty Words**

"_The rest is silence."_

_Hamlet_

* * *

Sonic the Hedgehog, undisputedly the fastest living thing on the planet, savior of the Earth several times over, and general all around hero, braced himself as he allowed his words to sink in. The listener, who had been busily disassembling what Sonic guessed was a car engine, suddenly froze, the pieces he'd been handling dropping from nerveless hands. The twin tails for which he was named abruptly stopped the rhythmic twitching they normally assumed and lay limply on the ground as if transfixed. Then abruptly the listener turned to face him, and the fact he was only six years old made the look of utter horror on his face even more pronounced.

"You're leaving?!"

Sonic winced as the panicked shout pierced through the ambient noise of the Workshop to batter at his ears. "Just for a few days, Tails," He said quickly. "A week at most. I have to clear up something with the bank."

Tails stared at him as if he'd been struck between the eyes with a hammer, and Sonic fought the urge to laugh at his friend's expression, knowing it would only make things worse. His mouth worked soundlessly for several more seconds, then closed slowly, and Sonic could visibly see the shock wearing off, changing to worry. "Why?" Tails asked anxiously. "Did I do something wrong?"

Sonic sighed at Tails' knee-jerk response. Over the last two years since they'd met, he'd heard more of that than he cared to. He could only guess as to where the fox had picked up the habit, but it had probably developed during the time he'd lived on the streets. "No Tails, you haven't done anything wrong. I just wanted to get out for a bit and do a few things, that's all. I'm sure you'll-"

"Can't I come?"

"I'm gonna be pretty busy out there, buddy," Sonic replied smoothly. "It'd get really boring for you if you came."

"But I want to go!" Tails objected with a trace of desperation. "Can't I go with you?"

"I kinda wish ya could Tails," answered Sonic sincerely, "but I have to be in Central City by tomorrow, and-"

"-and I'll only slow you down." Tails eyes flashed with annoyance and not a little bitterness as he finished the sentence Sonic had started.

Sonic bit his lip in the process of apologizing to his friend. Instead he kneeled down and put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Listen," he said softly, "I know you're upset. I would be too. But this is something I've got to do myself. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Besides, I'll only be a phone call away!"

Tails nodded glumly. There was a hurt look in his eyes as he turned away, his shoulders limp with disappointment, and for the hundredth time, Sonic reminded himself it was for the boy's own good. With that firmly in mind, he squeezed Tails' shoulder once more before getting to his feet. He walked over to the door, stopping along the way to grab his travel pack, which he'd carefully filled the previous day. When he reached the door, he turned once and looked back at the fox, who poked with seeming indifference at the parts around him, before opening the door, stepping through, and closing it firmly behind him.

As soon as the door latched, Sonic sighed and leaned against the wood wearily, letting the afternoon sunlight soak into him where he stood. It had been as easy as he'd expected to allay the kid's suspicions, but considerably more difficult than he'd expected to actually say the words. He hoped Tails would calm down by the time he got back, and Sonic almost smiled as he imagined the scene playing out in his head. _Tails would come to the door when I knock, probably disgruntled and upset at being left behind. Then his eyes will widen when he sees what I brought back._

Fumbling his pack open, Sonic reached in and extricated a small magazine advertisement, carefully cut from its parent binding to accompany him. On it, a shining monster of a computer could be seen, emblazoned with the letters X16-7 on its side, accompanied by a long list of performance numbers that made no sense to him, as well as one very _large_ number with a dollar sign in front of it.

Tails had practically drooled over the advertisement when he saw it in a magazine Sonic had ordered for him. And while he was still naïve in many things, he knew that things cost money, and that the computer was too expensive for Sonic to buy. So, even though the kid in him had probably wanted to ask for it, he never did. However, he didn't know about the small fortune in precious stones Sonic had been gifted with by the Flickies the previous year. He'd already put the majority of it in trust for the young fox, and a fair amount had gone towards building their new home/workshop, but what was left could still pay for the computer as if it were a drop in the bucket.

_After_, Sonic reminded himself, _I've gotten to the city, made the withdrawal from the bank, headed on over to West City to pick it up, and brought it back._ He could have made all those stops in a day unhindered, but it would take him the better part of the afternoon to get to the city, where he'd wait until morning for the bank to open. Then he'd take the money to the only store within two thousand miles that would stock it before taking the long, three-day ride back, through the irritatingly round-about route to Central City, and from there back home.

As he envisioned the horrifyingly slow journey back, he took solace in the look on his friend's face when he returned. Chuckling softly to himself, he took off, rustling the trees around him as his legs accelerated him to three hundred miles per hour in four seconds flat. Then his form blurred as he ran even faster, leaving a trail of dust behind him as he did.

* * *

Tails sat numbly on the floor of his workshop, absently piecing the engine he'd been disassembling back together. His hands moved automatically, placing the piece instinctively in its correct place, one after the other, like some vast metal jigsaw, but he wasn't paying attention. _Just a few days, right? _He thought reassuringly. _I mean it's not like he's never coming back. Just a few days………_

Abruptly he exploded to his feet, scattering pieces of metal around to bounce off half a dozen unfinished projects: an excavator he'd built from scratch to help build the workshop, now an empty shell, long since scavenged for parts; a plane engine he'd gotten for Christmas but had never touched; another engine he'd salvaged from a junkyard. All sitting silently on the floor of the hangar to frame the faithful, thrice repaired Tornado biplane Tails had always wanted to tinker with it, but had never been confident enough, seeing as it belonged to Sonic.

Tearing his eyes away from these things, Tails began to pace anxiously, an action that would have seemed comical for one so young had it not been for the intense expression on his face. Left behind. There it was, laid out clearly before him. He was being left behind, like usual. After all the times it had happened, he thought he should have gotten used to it, but it never got any easier to admit. Always it was said differently, but the message was always the same.

"-I really have to hurry-"

"-be there tonight-"

"-too young to come-"

"-slow me down-"

"-bring you back something cool-"

"-slow me down-"

His expression tightened as the memories of those times filled him, and he felt the same resentment, the same shame he'd always felt. That he was slowing Sonic down, holding him back.

Just a bother. A nuisance.

Deep down, he knew that wasn't fair. But for all his above-average intellect, he was only six, and like most children, could not bring himself to admit it. Even more than shame, however, there was fear. The fear that, despite all his promises, the time they'd spent together, all the things he'd done, Sonic wouldn't come back. It was an omnipresent sensation, gnawing away at his trust every time Sonic left and evaporating the moment he returned. But he wasn't just going out for a drink, or to go shopping this time; He was leaving for as long as a full week. A week when he'd be out of reach, out of sight. Suddenly the crowded workshop seemed far from crowded, as if the Hedgehog's absence skewed the fabric of reality, making the room appear larger and more spacious. More empty.

He remembered another place, another room, darkened and empty of life, and shied away from the pain of that day. Even now, it was not something he wanted to remember.

"There's got to be something I can do!" he blurted out abruptly. The sound echoed dimly off the walls, battering his ears much as they had Sonic's minutes before. For a moment he simply stood, listening as his own words rang through him. After what seemed an eternity, but could only have been a few seconds, he shook himself and sat down again, staring at the scattered pieces as if they were pieces of his mind he were trying to recollect.

The biggest problem was that Sonic still saw him as a kid, not as someone he could count on, but as someone he needed to look after instead. He had to make Sonic see him as something more than just a hanger-on, and after two years living with him, he knew that would not be easy. The one thing that truly motivated Sonic was the battle against Robotnik, and while Tails could use his two tails in several ways, there was little he could do to help him. And the only thing he really did well was-

Then it hit him. There were _two_ things he did well, and as his eyes fell on the Tornado, the two pieces came together, and he knew what he had to do.

And how he could do it.

Standing up again, he ran across the room, careful to avoid the myriad sprockets and screws he'd earlier scattered. When he reached a pristine, neatly organized metal shelf, he whirled his tails around, using a set of muscles he long since learned to control to spin them in such a way that, when combined with his lightweight frame, produced just enough lift to raise him up. Gently hopping into the air, he floated toward the ceiling, eyes focused on the top shelf as he approached. On it, there were several pieces of scrap metal, a few cans of paint, half a hundred loose screws, and a small, lead-lined gray box. Reaching out, he took the box in both hands and lowered himself slowly to the floor with his prize. He'd spent some time working with the box's construction, lest some imperfection allow some small hole to form and release what he'd tried desperately to contain. Then the lid came off and he gazed excitedly at his prize.

Nestled carefully between pieces of stiff foam, a lustrous, fist sized blue stone gleamed back at him, seeming almost to reflect his excitement. Reaching in, he took hold of the gem and pulled it out, watching it flicker and glow brighter as he held it.

_A jewel containing the ultimate power……._


	4. The Last Guardian

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Last Guardian**

"_Fate swept us away, sent my whole brave high-born clan to their final doom. Now I must follow them."_

_Beowulf_

* * *

"-of an object to remain in motion is known as inertia. Furthermore, that each action results in an equal and opposite-"

As Knuckles' eyes slid swiftly over the pages with incredible speed, he wondered as he sometimes did why many members of so-called advanced societies disdained such relaxing activities like reading. After all, what could such people truly do with all of their spare time? Learning something new seemed a far more productive way to spend time than anything else he could think of. And the ease with which such a project can be both picked up and set aside, it often confounded him to read references in some of his volumes of a reluctance to engage in such activities.

"-rate of acceleration from rest being reasonably close to 9.8 meters per second squared, regardless of mass-"

Then again, maybe it was simply his fresh perspective on things. Having never seen any sort of printed volume until his sixteenth year, it had presented him with a valuable insight into the world outside. Seeing as how the relative isolation of his home might not last much longer, he had decided it to be a good idea to glean as much about the outsiders as possible from this new resource. And if that weren't enough, years of isolation and general boredom had left him in such a state that any form of occupation with useful work was a precious commodity, not to be wasted.

So with that in mind, he had thrown himself into this new medium with such enthusiasm that he not only taught himself to read, but also became proficient enough that he had begun to outpace the steady influx of new material from Tails. He still didn't know why the young pup was so enthusiastic about his hobby, or why he had taken it upon himself to be his supplier, but the Guardian was grateful all the same. He'd been somewhat offended at first however, thinking that the fox was buying the books because of some misplaced compassion for the "poor savage". Until, that is, he learned they were actually books that Tails had already read, and were simply going to be given away if he did not take them.

As he reached the end of the chapter, he closed the thick, heavy volume entitled "Kinematics". Setting it atop the small wood shelf he'd constructed for himself, he stopped in the act of picking up another from the stack_. It's getting too late_, he told himself wearily. Instead, he stood up, grimacing as his vertebrae popped in protest of his sudden movement. He paused for a moment to stretch his legs before making his way out through the small opening in the rock he'd dug several years back to serve as his home. The location was not ideal, and winds often screamed through the opening at inconvenient times, but he'd decided early on that his convenience was secondary to his responsibilities. The only thing that made the spot important was the fact he was only a few meters from the Shrine when he slept.

Over time, particularly over the last few months, he'd added several homey touches, including a door to keep the elements out, crude furniture to add comfort, and a small, wood burning stove to heat his home. In the end, the last had taken the most time because of the sheer amount of excavation involved in the chimney, but not by much. Like his early efforts to read, he had been forced to teach himself carpentry from scratch, with only a few vague instructions. In the end, he had become moderately proficient, and recently, he'd begun carving in his spare time, making small trinkets to decorate his den.

But that world was closed off behind him with the door as he stepped outside. The small fire inside was a fleeting memory as he found himself surrounded by chilly darkness, the last vestiges of heat bleeding from his body as the night embraced him. His eyes, however, were designed more for the pitch-black tunnels his people had sprung from than the open air. In seconds he could make out the faint outlines of the Temple, its ruined columns and moss-covered foundation buckling up to from the ground to surround the remnants of the once-proud structure. Situated on a small precipice near the edge of the Island, It provided an open area that allowed the occupant a clear view of his surroundings, and by extension, any intruders that approached it. It was for this reason he had moved the Emerald from its traditional home of the last fifteen-hundred years, for the inner sanctum was no longer safe.

It had taken the blatant theft of his charge for the lethargic guardian to even consider relocating it.

* * *

_"What are you _doing_!?" Knuckles practically screamed._

_Sitting comfortably in his floating throne, the Master Emerald held firmly in the grip of its metal claw, Dr. Robotnik's chuckled coldly, his vast bulk jiggling as he did. "I told you, friend, that I needed something a little stronger to power my fortress."_

_"I never agreed to this!" Knuckles snarled in reply. A movement caught his attention, and his eyes blazed as the Blue Hedgehog struggled to rise, smoke drifting from singed fur. Ignoring the battered and bruised intruder, he turned to the thief that stood blatantly before him "Put it back, quickly! It must be returned to the pedestal or the Island will fall!"_

_Robotnik tipped his head back, tapping his chin with mock consideration. "No," he said flippantly with a wave of his hand, "I don't think so. Besides, what happens to your island is of little concern to me."_

_Knuckles felt the blood try to drain from his face as he imagined the devastation of the Island's fall, competing with a rising flush as anger awakened within him. "Bastard!" he hissed. "We had a deal. An agreement between men!"_

_"True." Robotnik admitted with a cold smile. "But while I am a man, you, my dear Knuckles, are a rat. And not a very smart one either."_

_Knuckles howled with rage, concern for the Island gone as he leaped towards his former partner, only to be thrown back as something struck him in the chest so hard the air was driven from his lungs. His legs folded and he slid limply to the floor, dazed. His eyes rose dumbly to stare at the sparking device the Doctor held in his hand._

"_Quod erat demonstrandum," the human sneered. "Now I really need to be going. I'll just leave you here, shall I? It is your Island after all. It's only fitting you should watch it fall before you die."_

* * *

It had taken a greater degree of self-honesty to admit how completely he'd been fooled, though while in the same state of mind, he knew it wasn't his fault. He'd spent the better part of his life, nearly ten years since his father's death, alone, his mother having died when he was young. He didn't even remember her face, but his father had spoken of her often, in between lessons in geology, combat, hunting, and a hundred other things he'd need to know as the new Guardian. Those times were infrequent and bitter, and Knuckles was beginning to understand his feelings on the subject.

The Island had stood (metaphorically speaking) for hundreds, if not thousands of years before his birth, and had once been as populous as a small city. But time and time again, disaster struck. Diseases, carried by airborne insects, destroyed whole generations. Fires consumed their homes, causing them to flee to the ancient tunnels. For years, it seemed they would survive secluded deep underground. Then, a careless mistake caused a breach in the side of the Island's inland-sea, causing it to flood the caverns. The survivors sealed the watery crypts and returned once more to the surface. Over time, their numbers dwindled, until finally only one remained.

He remembered the day clearly. The day the title had become his.

* * *

_It was noon. His father was showing him how to use an axe, struggling to cut down a might tree. Sweat poured off him in waves, and Knuckles was about to ask if he was unwell when he stiffened with a cry, clutching at his chest. His son watched him fall, staring in horror as he twisted and groaned for several moments, kicking madly at the dirt, then laid still. For the longest time Knuckles stood there, waiting for his father to get up again; to laugh and say what a wonderful joke it was. It wasn't until the sun began to set that he admitted it to himself._

_His father wasn't going to get back up._

_Burrowing was second nature to the Echidna. Newborns learned to dig before they could walk, instinct driving them to claw mindlessly at the ground. So it hadn't been difficult for Knuckles to return his father to the earth. Ten years later, when a strange, malevolent outsider rode his metal fortress onto his shores, he had never given a thought to deception, for in truth he had never lied, nor been lied to. Had Sonic not arrived before the Doctor found what he was looking for, The Island would now be at rest on the bottom of the ocean._

* * *

Thoughts of the Hedgehog brought Knuckles back to the present and the reason for his current restlessness. Before the arrival of the Outsiders, he'd never really allowed himself to believe there might be anything else for him, outside the confines of the Island. But now there was no pretending. The books the Fox brought him whet his appetite, but it would not for much longer. There was nothing he wanted more than the freedom he would find off of the Island. The freedom to do what he wanted, to live his life by no one's expectations but his own!

And he couldn't. Perhaps it was just sentimental foolishness, but he couldn't simply leave. Too many people, _his people_, had given their lives to protect this place. Too many souls weighed him down, dragging at his legs to stay his feet. His sense of responsibility, that which had defined him and shaped him since his birth, now kept him from what he wanted most. It demanded that he follow them; to guard, as they had, a thankless people from their own avarice. And when he breathed his last in its defense, either from age and illness, or in its valiant defense, he would fail, for there would be no one else to take up his charge.

Because of the stone...

He didn't remember running towards the Shrine. He didn't remember climbing the steps. But suddenly he was there, staring down into the green depths of the emerald, anchored to the stone with straps of tough leather embedded in the pedestal. He watched the light within it brighten at his presence, as it always did, before fading slowly back to its natural viridian glow. His fists clenched at his side, biting deeply into his palms, and he didn't care. He wanted to hit it. To smash it! To take control of his own life! He raised his hand, ready to shatter the accursed rock-

He didn't know what stopped him. Pride, honor, guilt, duty; It didn't matter. Perhaps it never did. With a sudden exhalation of breath, he backed up into one of the pillars, the aging marble grinding against his skin as he slid down to ground. He gazed up at the sky, obscured by clouds that rumbled as thunder tore through their depths. It was a wall, yet another wall that kept people out.

_No, kept _him_ in._

Sleep beckoned to him, a siren's call he couldn't long resist. With the last of his strength, he lifted his head to stare into the depths of the jewel.

"Why me?" he muttered wearily as his eyelids began to droop. "Why does it have to be me?"

The stone didn't answer.

* * *

It has been brought to my attention that the large blocks of italicized text are troublesome to people. Unfortunately, It was the best "flashback" indicator I could find. If you can think of a better one I could use, please let me know.


	5. Shot in the Dark

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 5: Shot in the Dark**

"_Thou mayest revenge. O slave!"_

_Banquo_

* * *

d-113 quietly observed the outburst from its perch atop the cliff overlooking the shrine. As the Echidna sank to the ground, it revised its previously conclusion that the mammal had detected its presence. His abrupt appearance at the Objective, coinciding with its own, had led the latter to formulate an escape route, should the former pursue. However, it appeared such had not been the case after all. It had merely been a coincidence.

None the less, events had been altered by the creatures, though fortunately not beyond the scope of the Mission. The instructions that had been given to it were explicit concerning the necessity of a "silent operation", without any witnesses or direct evidence. An attempt, it had determined, at establishing a foundation for deniability should it become necessary. It did not speculate, however, on the reason for such a precaution. Such would have been outside of its current operational parameters, and its instructions had been equally clear.

Nothing but the Mission.

Because of the both the complexity and the rigidly defined scope of the Operation, d-113 had had no alternative but to opt for an indirect approach to its Objective. Due to the necessity of remaining undetected, it had chosen an insertion at a distance of twenty miles from its target, followed by a hike through the dense jungle habitat of the Island's heart. The already difficult foot trek was made worse by the fact it had limited itself to a sound level of less than twenty decibels to avoid detection. Though it approximately doubled the time needed to traverse the same distance, the precaution had allowed d-113 to approach to within range of its target, apparently without detection.

However, even if it were to be discovered, it was unlikely that d-113would have be recognized immediately. Its formerly gleaming outer carapace had been coated with a chemical solution that had left it etched and dulled. Only under close inspection could it be identified as metallic. In addition, its joints had been thoroughly oiled prior to its deployment, lest it emit noise that would betray its mechanical nature. Unless the parameters changed, d-113 would easily be able to elude pursuit by the Echidna without being identified. Other contingencies existed to cover all probable possibilities, but none had been required as of yet.

As the mammal's head slumped down on its chest, d-113's powerful audio sensors picked up the rhythmic breaths of an unconscious animal. Based on the Echidna's psychological profile, there was only a six-percent probability that the status was feigned. Well within operating parameters.

_Beginning Phase Three._

Moving silently, it turned towards the cloth-covered steel case that it carried with it. Bending over it, d-113 tapped a few recessed switches and quietly opened the lid. Nestled inside, a long, metallic device lay nestled between layers of soft padding. Designed specifically for this mission, it was a modified version of the standard issue combat laser. Unlike the original, this one had been redesigned to project a very specific frequency of light, at an intensity level several times stronger than was normally allowed. Of course, the power required for such a shot would completely drain the expanded power supply, not to mention burning out virtually all of the relay conduits. And of course, the barrel itself would begin to melt even before the shot fired, which meant that there was a sixteen percent chance the deformed barrel would obstruct the beam, causing the weapon, and most likely its wielder, to disintegrate.

Factoring all variables, the chance of success, however, was still within acceptable limits, as far as its orders were concerned

In one motion, it hefted the weapon, nearly a hundred pounds, over its shoulder with a nearly inaudible 'clunk' that might have been detectable by a biological ear at a distance of two feet. At over seventy feet away, the Echidna didn't stir. Moving quickly, d-113 plugged the small interface cord into the back of its head, and seconds later a small crosshair appeared, overlaid on its vision. Centering the target in its sight, it lined the barrel up carefully until the crosshairs were covering the target.

Then, with the unhesitant execution only a machine was capable of, it fired.

The Master Emerald vomited light out of every facet as the energy from the blast bled into its crystalline structure. For perhaps half a moment, the world existed as only a flash of green light, even to d-113's advanced visual sensors. Then, suddenly, the light winked out.

The Emerald stood calmly, apparently undamaged.

_Something appears to have gone wrong_, surmised d-113. _It should have-_

There was a sharp detonation, like a crack of a gun, which resounded through d-113's sensors like a bolt of lightning. The stone began to glow, first green, then a sickly blood red. Pulses of light lit the cliff face, growing stronger with each passing second. As it watched, cracks began to appear, first small, and then larger, filled with torrents of cascading sparks. The stone began to swell, as if from some great internal force, growing almost half-again in size. The chaos surrounding the stone reached a terrible crescendo, and the Stone gave a finally shriek of protest, like the funeral keen of a dying animal.

Then it shattered, and the earth heaved in the aftermath.

* * *

Knuckles awoke at the first vivid flash of light, springing instantly to his feet. Or tried to. Weary, disorientated, and virtually blinded by the display, he stumbled awkwardly as his tired limbs protested this unexpected move, and in that moment of weakness, his legs entangled, throwing him wildly off balance. Barely conscious, he tumbled backwards over the edge of the shrine to land in an unceremonious heap on the second tier. Mumbling nonsensically, he tried once more to stand, but threw himself flat as the ground leapt beneath him and a wave of stone fragments tore through the air above him.

_Green stone fragments_.

That realization finally woke him up. Hauling himself to his feet, he dragged himself over the edge and onto the platform, and then froze. The Emerald was gone. The leather straps securing it had been shredded, their anchors swallowed by the six-foot wide crater where the stone had once stood, and the entire platform was peppered with fragments, some as large as his arm and driven half their length into the stone floor. _If I been up here during the explosion_, he realized numbly, _I'd be dead. _His head spun as he looked down on the remnant of the Emerald he was born to serve, no more than a chunk of green crystal in a small hole in the ground.

"It's gone," He breathed. For a few seconds, he simply stood, letting the realization sink in. The captor that held him ensnared in a life he'd never wanted was destroyed in a flash. Everything he'd ever wanted: freedom, self-determination, independence. But he felt no exultation, no great relief. He'd _failed_. The sacred charge his ancestors had been given now lay broken at his feet. Only despair filled him, and a deep shame that was even now eating away at him. And beneath it, rage. Anger for the person that had done this, and a need to exact retribution. I don't care if it was Robotnik, or Sonic, or God himself! He's going t-

His thoughts broke off suddenly as the small remnant of the Master Emerald began to tremble in its hole. As he watched, a stream of water began to flow from the bottom of the hole. First slowly, then with greater speed, it began to fill the crater until it stopped about a foot from the rim. Not slowly, or gradually, but abruptly.

"What the-"

He never finished the sentence. The surface of the water erupted into a column of water that shot out of the pool and drove with crushing force into his mid-section. The blow knocked him off his feet and would have thrown him once more from the platform if he had not grabbed hold of the edge at the last second. Pulling himself back up, he watched the spurt of water reach its apex and then double back on itself to run back to the crater. Protrusions began to form along its length, protrusions that twisted and writhed like snakes, becoming larger as the stream shortened in length. The water began to darken, becoming more opaque by the second as it solidified until the last of the water in the crater was absorbed and the mass stepped fluidly out of the hole.

Knuckle's eyes bulged as he stared at the creature. It was like nothing he'd ever seen. Its semi-transparent form pulsated and quivered like so much gelatin, and its limbs grew longer and shorter with the pulsations. Its arms were boneless, twisting unnaturally as they flowed from side to side, ending in hands that shifted grotesquely from five, to two, to eight finger-like appendages. Its body was an unblemished ocean blue and seemingly possessed no internal organs, as its body was just clear enough that he could see through it. Its head, if one could call the faceless, twitching thing such, possessed a long, whip-like tentacle that protruded from the back. Within the mass he could see a pair of luminescent green orbs that reminded the stunned Echidna of the eyes of a predator, stalking its prey.

For a moment, the two stood facing one another, neither one moving. The creature gazed at the Echidna with empty, unblinking eyes, and the Echidna with ones filled with shock and disgust. Then Knuckles shook himself. Shock was replaced by rage; disgust, by righteous fury. His glove-bound hands curled into fists with a creak of leather, and his eyes burned as he glared at the creature.

"You," He hissed. "You did this!"

The creature gave no sign that it understood him, or that it had heard him at all. It turned its back on him and gazed mutely over the crater from whence it sprung. Bending over, it reached out an arm, which stretched almost lazily into the hole.

"Hey!" Knuckles snarled. "I'm talking to you! You in the…..water!"

The creature ignored him, scooping up the large chunk of stone in the bottom of the depression and turning it over in his hands. It was too much for Knuckles. With a roar that would have done his ancestors proud, he flew at the creature, a round house punch aimed to knock its arrogant little head-

His eyes widened and he ducked his head just in time to dodge as the chunk of Emerald dropped to the ground and the arm that had held it swept around, rustling his spines as it sailed overhead. The bloated hand on the end was swollen like a mace, and looked fully capable of breaking bones. No sooner had the thought passed through his head when the second arm swung around and drove into his face like a sledge-hammer. Though it looked like nothing more than blue gelatin, stars filled his vision as he felt himself thrown through the air, only to stop short as the arm that missed twisted to wrap around his ankle. He could only watch dizzily as the limb flexed and slammed him with stunning force back down onto the shattered platform. He felt the stone give way beneath him as the air was driven from his lungs. He watched helplessly as the creature flowed over to him, its eyes no longer empty, but blazing an angry red that burned hotter than any fire ever built. It raised its arms above its head, readying to strike.

Then it stopped. It lowered its arms quickly, its eyes darting around as if it could see something he could not. Then, without a sound, it turned on heel and leapt over the side. It drove towards the cliff with unnatural speed and hurled itself onto the face and, splattering onto the stone like a rotten tomato. For a moment, it hung there, seemingly in defiance of the laws of physics. First slowly, then seemingly all at once, it began to disappear into cracks in the stone like a stick sinking into water. In seconds, the last of the liquid poured into the stone and it was gone, leaving the stone undisturbed in its passage.

Knuckles stared after it for several seconds before he could draw a breath. With a groan, he managed to push himself into a sitting position and rubbed at his head where the punch had landed. Already it had begun to swell. He was bruised, and if the pain in his leg was any indication, he'd need to take it easy for a few days, but he hadn't garnered any broken bones from the fight.

"What was that thing?" He wondered aloud. "And why'd it run off like that?"

Shaking his head, he gathered his feet beneath him and stood slowly, gritting his teeth as his head swam. He felt weak, barely strong enough to stand, and he put his hands on his knees to keep from collapsing. I'd better lie down pretty soon, he thought wearily, or I'll probably fall. _Won't even need some blue-goo thing to help me either. _Chucklingweakly despite the situation, he stumbled towards the stairs. Then he stopped.

Fall.

"No," he whispered, eyes widening with horror.

* * *

The Island sailed through the heart of the storm, unfazed by the chaos around it. Occasional strikes of lightning bore down on the surface, but to no effect. Then the Island shook. It was a minute thing, but there is no such thing as 'minute' when talking about something as large as a city. For a few moments, the Island coasted on, seemingly unaffected.

Then, from one moment to the next, it began to sink.


	6. Bright Lights

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 6: Bright Lights**

_"Work banishes those three great evils, boredom, vice, and poverty."_

_Voltaire_

* * *

Julian waited with bated breath as the seconds ticked by on the antique clock on the wall. The lobby at the Station Square Family Resort was empty, except for a single security guard outstretched on one of the many sofas scattered about, completely engrossed in an Automotive Buyers Monthly magazine. To an untrained observer the man was completely at ease and totally unaware to his surroundings. Which, of course, he was. It was, however, considered bad form to notice such a thing at ones workplace, and Julian was nothing if not polite.

This was not to say he didn't do his job, or that he wasn't responsible enough to report something serious. But Julian, like many of his fellow employees, was far more interested in his paycheck than whether Bob "discovered" a bag of chips out of the vending machines without paying. And the management, if anything, was even worse. The Station Square Family Resort had managed to hang onto its 5-star rating by the skin of its teeth, and had no intention of drawing the attention of the Inspections Board because someone decided their duty required more than doing their job.

Not that the 5-star rating would help them much this year. The vast, sunny beaches and seductive gambling tables of the Resort were largely empty. The dreaded Highland Parkway Bypass, which had finally managed to garner itself a budget despite pressure from the management, now rendered all but a single lane of traffic completely blocked off, causing many of their customers to rebook their vacations elsewhere. Preparing for the worse, the Management managed to quickly chase half its staff onto vacation before construction began, preparing for the lean season. And it couldn't have come at a worse time. The rush of summer tourists, the Resorts most popular clientele, arrived the week following the groundbreaking ceremony.

Which only made the unenviable task of to which Julian was assigned even more painful. During his entire seven-hour shift, exactly two groups, totaling just five people, had actually spoken to the unfortunate young man at the front counter, and the twenty-year-old college-bound was veritably bored to tears. Only the hypnotic ticking of the antique grandfather clock on the other side of the hallway kept him from chewing on the counter-top.

It was perhaps the worst thing Julian had ever had to do, and if he'd had his say, he wouldn't have even considered it. But tuition didn't pay for itself, and the alternative had seemed worse at the time. Last semester, he'd found out first hand exactly how important a GPA was when it dipped just too low for his scholarship. So it was he found himself leaning on a counter at a deserted hotel, watching the heavy pendulum wave back and forth.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

At thirty-seconds to ten, the doors opened and a young man walked through the door. At over six feet tall, he stood a full head taller than Julian, but despite the disparity in their heights, they were similar in appearance. Both were somewhat on the thin side, and both were well groomed, though Julian's dark brown hair was parted on the left, while the newcomer's sandy hair was parted on the right. He awkwardly fumbled his nametag onto the expensive jacket that mirrored Julian's own, both compliments of the hotel.

"Hey Julian," He mumbled as his fingers struggled to work the tiny metal pin through the expensive material.

"Hey Tom," Julian responded, not taking his eyes off the clock. "Need a hand with that?"

Tom's cheeks flushed. "No," he answered indignantly, "I've got it." After a few moments, he managed to push the pin through the material with a grunt of triumph, followed by a slightly louder grunt of pain as the tip jabbed into his finger.

Julian shook his head. At twenty-one, Tom was one of the few employees that managed had managed to avoid "vacation" by the simple expedient of not being asked, a fact which sometimes surprised his fellow employees. It wasn't that Tom wasn't an okay guy, or that he didn't work hard. Far from it in fact. It was simply that no matter how hard he tried, and against all odds, he somehow managed to mess things up. Tripping over furniture, spilling drinks over multiple customers, even somehow finding himself so entangled in a supply closet it had required half a dozen of his fellows to extricate him from it. It was things like that that garnered him the nickname "Bad Juju".

"You look edgy," Tom noted distractedly. "How many did you get?"

Julian grimaced. "Five."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it."

Tic. Tic. Tic-Dong.

The bell's note hadn't even begun to fade before Julian hopped the counter. "See ya tomorrow man."

"Later," Said Tom, still working at the nametag, which somehow managed to poke another finger.

Julian sighed with relief as the doors closed behind him and he breathed in the fresh ocean air coming in from the east. The cool, crisp breeze tempted him for a moment, but he'd long since grown weary of the beaches over the seven months he'd worked at the resort. And with the hotel so empty, the beaches were practically devoid of life, save for the odd crab that burrowed out of the sand to pinch at his feet.

Neither did any of the tourist sites interest him. He'd already toured the Presidential Mansion, the Congressional Hall, the dozen miscellaneous monuments dotting the city, and done all the other little things any good boy on his first trip the Capital would do. Not to mention sending enough souvenirs back to his family to last a lifetime.

_Perhaps the Casino then?_ he mused thoughtfully, glancing longingly at the bright lights visible just over the rooftops. _It'd be nearly empty right now, and I've always been lucky. Besides, I heard the new pinball game is something else._ His birthday had been last month, making him just old enough to gamble. And it wasn't like there was anything else to do except go back to his apartment and watch TV.

With an avaricious grin, he made his way towards the Casino, the bright neon lights beckoning him onward.

* * *

He almost didn't see it.

The rock wasn't sharp, or particularly large, but it had been hidden beneath a tuft of grass, and he hadn't catch sight of it until it was too late to avoid. Sonic's near instant reflexes and hyper-efficient musculature let him twist his right foot at the last second, turning what would have been a bone-shattering collision into a graze.

If one can be said to "graze" anything at four-hundred miles per hour.

It was too late to recover. While his reaction saved his foot, it threw him off balance and at this speed, there was no time to correct. Gritting his teeth, he kicked off with all the strength he could muster, simultaneously wrapping him into a tight ball and spinning his body like a gyro. To anyone else, it would have been worthless at such speed, but he knew his physiology better. In this position, the sharpened spines curled tight against his back fanned out like saw blades, a natural defense mechanism his species developed.

But at such speed, it had other uses than defense and he hoped it was enough as he barreled through the woods

In moments, Sonic felt the brief shock as his body struck the first tree, milliseconds before it was shredded by his whirling spines. The second tree fared no better, but already he was beginning to lose momentum, and the third tree struck him like a punch to the gut. Throwing himself outward to full extension, he twisted his body frantically around, trying to impose his lower half between himself and the next tree. He struck feet first, letting his legs' powerful musculature absorb the shock. On impact, the surface of the tree crumpled, and for a moment, he feared it might not absorb the impact. But moments later he felt himself come to a stop. It had held. Barely.

Pulling his feet from the shattered trunk, he paused a moment to flex his right foot gently. _No broken bones,_ he noted, _but it feels odd. Almost_ _numb_. Moving carefully, he slid down the battered and broken trunk, and breathed a sigh of relief as his feet touched solid ground. _And not just metaphorically_. He noted as he felt blades of grass between his toes. Sitting down on the ground, he lifted his right foot and stared.

The bottom of his shoe was gone. Insole, outsole, and heel alike had been stripped away, and the top layer of skin was reddened and warm. Playing the moment back in his head, he saw his foot brush past the protruding rock; felt the sudden rush of cool air as the reinforced padding on his custom shoes was suddenly stripped off. "Holy-" he whispered aloud. "If that'd have hit straight on…"

Shaking his head, he dusted himself off with a sigh. _Oh well,_ he thought nonchalantly. _I can get another pair. Just as soon as I get to the city. Might want to pull some bandages out of my pack though_. Reaching up, he felt for the straps of his bag.

It wasn't there.

The straps must have been shredded when he struck the tree, and he'd been too distracted then to worry about it. And if he'd been spinning at _that_ speed, it could have gone…well, anywhere. His carefully prepared supplies, and more importantly, his cell phone, all gone in the blink of an eye.

He needed to get to the City; he could get everything he needed there. As the day-light faded, he could begin to make out the bright lights of Central City, still some distance away. Normally, he could have made that run in a few minutes, but without shoes it could take all day! And it was far quicker now to simply go to the city than to return back home for his extra pair. Not that that was really an option, given the mood Tails would be in. Grumbling irritably, he took off. Not at the normal five-hundred miles per hour, or even a leisurely hundred, but at a paltry twenty-something.

He felt like weeping.


	7. Fallen Angel

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my beta-reader The Great Gonzales, without whom this probably would never have been published. Thank you for your patience._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Fallen Angel**

"_It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."_

_Macbeth_

d-113 sped through the undergrowth, its thrusters working at just twenty-one percent capacity in order to keep up with its target. At such a speed, collisions in such a confined space could cause severe damage, aside from being difficult to avoid. But its calculations determined ninety-seven miles-per-hour to be the break-even point on success probabilities; any faster risked more significant damage, while any slower might allow the target to escape. At this point, it was already exceeding standard safety procedures, but the necessity of capturing the target took precedent.

It didn't seem possible for a creature to move so quickly below ground, but its body seemed to possess special properties not included in the mission briefing. It maneuvered through the earth almost as quickly as its pursuer could move above it, made more difficult by its ability to avoid physical obstructions. Twice d-113 had been forced to spend precious seconds mapping a way around an obstacle while the creature moved farther ahead. Fortunately, the residue from the laser blast left an easily traceable trail to follow. _Un_fortunately, if the creature left the Island and reached the sea, even the unique tracking residue would quickly disperse, making pursuit impossible. And at its current rate, even with a higher overall speed, d-113 would not be able to-

The robot came to a stop as the signal it had been receiving suddenly changed direction, making a break for the surface. Settling to the ground, d-113 lay down its case and opened it. Ignoring the melted piece of slag that had once been a rifle, it reached instead for the only other items: a small, circular device, six inches in diameter and covered in a pattern of multi-colored spikes and depressions, and a length of slim steel cable. Gingerly hefting the device, it made its way towards the signal, carefully avoiding the denser greenery. Unlike the rifle, this device was fragile.

It eventually reached its destination: a small, oblong clearing that was situated less than a mile from the edge of the Island. Close enough to intercept, but only just. As it cleared the trees, the first tendrils of liquid broke the surface and began to flow together, melding back into their original form. D-113 watched this process with mechanical patience, checking its trajectory another dozen times in the few seconds before the creature stood once more before it. Its eyes were still reforming, and its gait was unsteady as it took its first few steps. _Possibly disorientation due to sequential morphosis, _it theorized as it cocked its arm back.

The creature only managed a few awkward steps before d-113 shot its arm forward and threw the sphere at the creature. The noise made the creature turn, but it was too late. The sphere struck it in the center of its back with a wet sound like rubber on rubber before it could turn to face him. Instantly it fell to the ground, jerking spasmodically as its body began to stiffen and turn pale. It twitched and writhed for several seconds before the whiteness reached its extremities and the movements stopped.

When the nature of the beast had been made clear, d-113 had been faced with the necessity of capturing the creature without causing irreparable harm. To facilitate this, it acquired a large vial of liquid Nitrogen, holding it in an airtight case until it was needed. Enough of the freezing liquid remained to keep the creature below the estimated melting point of negative twenty degrees Celsius for over a half hour, more than enough time to secure the creature on the Carrier, less than ten minutes from its current location. Because of the unique nature of the beast, modeled extensively with the Carrier's computers, there was a ninety-eight percent chance there would be no permanent harm to the creature. Well within operating instructions.

Turning from its prone captive d-113 picked up the coil of steel lying at its feet. Stretching it over the creature's inert form, it carefully secured the living sculpture with a few deft loops and tied the end around its arm. After testing the knots carefully, it bent and picked up the case; this final piece of evidence would be dropped into the ocean as it left, taking the last pieces of evidence along with it. Finally, it ran a short diagnostic test. Enough fuel remained in its reactor for dozens of hours of sustained flight; more than enough for such a small trip. The only issue was what appeared to be bits of stone imbedded in its chest, but the damage was merely superficial. It could wait for a regularly scheduled maintenance.

Carrying its prize carefully to avoid melting from its thrusters, the robot rose into the air and flew off.

_Phase Four complete. Beginning Phase Five._

* * * * *

"No, no, no!" Knuckles howled as the ground began to shake beneath him. He turned away from the shattered shrine and looked out into the clouds, which began to thin even as he stood. Watching helplessly, he clenched his fists as the sea opened up beneath him, a vast stretch of blue stretching in every direction. Right now he was hundreds of miles from land and, barely being able to swim, couldn't hope to escape a watery grave. But as he despaired, a bolt of lightning flashed beneath the underbelly of the storm, engulfing the world for miles around in a flash of light. Including…

"What the hell-?"

It shouldn't have been there. The picturesque mountains and thick jungle landscape before him were utterly impossible. He should have been leagues away from the coastline! He pawed at his eyes, sure it was some sort of illusion. But there it was, less than ten miles away….and still ten miles too far. There was no way he could hope to swim even a mile in this storm. If only he were a little closer…

An idea struck him. A ludicrous idea, but he was running out of time. Turning back to the cratered surface of the shrine, his eyes fell upon the large chunk of the Master Emerald the creature had been examining. It might not be the whole Emerald, but maybe it would do. Bending over, he picked up the rock and slid down the slope into the hole, which had already begun to fill with rain water. Shoving the fragment into the bottom, he quickly discarded his gloves before plunging them into the water to press down onto the stone.

_Please_. He prayed silently, concentrating his thoughts as he had been taught years before, emptying his mind of distractions. _Help me._

He waited several moments, holding his breath as he waited, despair welling up inside him as nothing happened.

"I said move!" He screamed. All his will was focused on the stone in his hands as he ground it against the bottom of the pool.

And then he felt it. It was weak, barely an echo of the stone's vast power, but he seized it, channeling the energy deep into the depths of the Island. Instantly, the ground quivered and shook, and he fought to keep his balance as the world danced beneath him. But suddenly the wind was beating against his face as the Island began to move, first slowly, then with greater speed, eating up the distance as the land grew larger before him.

He was six miles away, barely twenty-five hundred feet above the churning depths. He gritted his teeth, grabbing at the energy with desperation he hadn't known himself capable of.

Four miles away. He could see the individual waves now, pounding upon the sea that carried them onward. Three miles. Two miles.

One mile. The sea was rising up to meet him, but the shore was close, oh so close! It rushed towards him, growing larger and larger.

_It's going to make it! _He exulted. _I'm-_

The bottom-most part of Angle Island jutted downward from the surface almost half as far as the mountain above it did. As the Island rushed onward towards the coastline, it sank beneath the surface, sinking deeper and deeper until it reached the bottom and buried itself in the sand. Nothing could stop the massive Juggernaut in its surge towards the shore, but the laws of physics would not be denied.

Knuckles gave a wordless cry of shock as the Island pitched forward and he was tossed into the air like a ragdoll, limbs swinging wildly as he strove for hard ground. Too soon did he find it, crashing against the earth with a cry of pain. As the angle of the ground shifted, he began to slide downwards, towards the crushing depths of the ocean below. Snarling, he dug his bare hands against the soil, gripping at the grass to arrest his fall. Then, with a sound like thunder, the crag of rock dragging in the depths sheared off from the rest of the Island, sending the mass into a ponderous spin as it did. The sea rotated out of view below him, but Knuckles didn't notice until gravity's new orientation tore him from the ground and slammed him into the cliff, just as the Island collided with the shore.

Earth was torn from the ground as the two met, and the Island ripped through the trees, shredding the jungle like colossal a wrecking ball. It broke through the trees and hurled itself upon the mountains, which firmly held their ground against the intruding behemoth. The surface of the Island was forced higher as the slopes acted like a ramp, angling it upward to claw at the sky. The 'West' side of the Island was torn apart as it smashed against the rocks, slowing its progress even as it was destroying it. Then, finally, it was done, and the Island was strewn upon the mountainside like a beached whale, naked to the world.

Knuckles did not notice. The impact with the cliff had left him bruised and unconscious. Now he lay weakly against the rocks, stretched limply over the Island he was sworn to protect.

* * * * *

In the aftermath of this earth-shaking collision, the air was filled with dust and the sound of falling rocks. A trail of decimation followed the Island's path, a gash in the earth more than a mile wide, already beginning to fill with water as the tides pressed inward from the shore. The cries of frightened wildlife, wakened by the upheaval, echoed off the mountainsides, an appropriate ambience for the chaos that preceded it.

Amongst this devastation, the Shrine was still intact, a testament to the ancient architects that built it. A single crevice marred its face, running from the foundation to the very top, where the shattered remnants of the Master Emerald lay strewn across the floor of the freshly made crater.

From out of the wreckage, a light began to glow. Dim at first, then with greater power, it grew in intensity until it blossomed into a small, incandescent form, hovering above the ground. Formless and brilliant, it ebbed and flowed through the air like fluorescent smoke. For a brief moment, the light coalesced, revealing a vague outline within. It seemed to turn, glancing briefly at the unconscious guardian before shifting its gaze towards the sky, where a dim light could be seen rising into the clouds some miles distant.

Then it was gone, leaving only silence in its wake.

* * *

(This is a revised chapter. Several corrections have been made.)

Thanks to Lupus Silvae for pointing out some of my mistakes. They have been corrected.


	8. The Harness or the Whip

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my beta-reader The Great Gonzales, without whom this probably would never have been published. Thank you for your patience._

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Harness or the Whip**

"_That's what we offer: purpose, a reason to be… desire."_

_Justice_

"I'm sorry, but tomorrow is the best I can do."

Sonic ground his teeth as he looked up at the smiling proprietor. Bald, mustached, and grossly overweight, he reminded him of nothing more than Robotnik in slacks and a sweat-soaked shirt, a fact that upset him more than he cared to admit.

Which only made the situation that much more frustrating.

"Look," he managed to say without snarling, "I don't have time for this. I need these shoes tonight. I can pay you whatever you want, but I need them tonight. Got it?"

The man bit his lip, and then smiled, somewhat less widely than before. "I understand that, but you have to understand me as well. These materials you're requesting require a special bonding agent that takes twelve hours to cure. If you wear them tonight, they'll fly apart on you. It'd be a waste of my time and a waste of your money," At that, the fat man's eyes narrowed. "Speaking of which, you _do_ have money, right?"

Now it was Sonic's turn to bite his lip. "Well, I have some of it. But," he continued quickly as the man's eyes expression turned ugly. "I can get you the rest when the bank re-opens in the morning. I can pay you about a third tonight."

The man did not look convinced, and for once, the smile had dropped completely off of his face. "Show me," he demanded.

Sonic swallowed and reached into his newly purchased satchel, pulling out a few large bills. Miraculously, the man's smile returned. Taking the bills, he counted them out and nodded. "Everything looks in order. What name should the order be under?"

I _seriously doubt you'll be seeing any other blue hedgehogs with no right shoe walking about_. He thought irritably. "Sonic," he said aloud.

"Good! Now if you'll just fill these out here we can-"

* * * * *

Julian waited impatiently as the clock ticked its way inexorably onward. _Only ten more minute,_ he told himself. _Just ten more minutes and you can…..well………do something else._

He wasn't really looking forward to the end of his shift, but he knew it had to be better than this. Not a single person had walked through the door since he'd come in. He'd almost strangled Tom when his co-worker nonchalantly announced he'd received no less than eight guests the night before, and it had been his cast that had saved him. How he'd managed to break his arm was the subject of much debate, but apparently a luggage cart had collapsed on him. On seeing the autographed wrapping, he'd settled for signing his own name and letting him on his way.

It _really wasn't fair._ He decided. _I mean it's not like I'm not interesting or something. It's just that there's nothing interesting to do! Except the Casino, that is._ He smiled as he remembered the night before: the exhilarating slot machine, the thrill of winning it big.

And, of course, the disbelief of having somehow ended up penniless in under two hours. Which was why he'd be staying at the apartment tonight rather than trying his luck (or lack thereof) once more.

All in all, things were not off to a flying start. The lack of viable options during his off hours was making the money he set aside every week look downright tempting, but so far he hadn't become _that_ desperate. After all, if he managed to work the entire summer and still come up short on tuition this year because he'd gotten bored, it'd only be twice as bad next year when he had to do it again. If there had been a good job locally, or within driving range, and if it had paid well, and if it had had even half the benefits-

_If, if, if, if, if! There wasn't one, and that's why you're here, right!_

_Seven more minutes._

When the door opened, he was examining a fascinating spot on the floor, where a strange stain colored the carpet. At once he straightened and put on his game-face, business-like, but with an air of welcome, just like he'd been trained to do, marred only slightly as the corner of his mouth twitched when he saw his guest.

_One? Just one? Looks like another slow night._ Smothering his disappointment, he watched the guest approach and felt his eyes widen slightly in surprise. While not exactly rare, mobians tended to avoid cities in general. Despite comprehensive legislation to prevent the persecution of other species, a solid percentage of humans were still biased against the creatures. And while officially there had never been an all out war between the two peoples, there had always been an undercurrent of tension. The two groups simply didn't intermingle, and it was rare to see a mobian in a human domain. Nor was that the only thing unusual about him. This one, a hedgehog, had strange, bright blue fur covering his body, which he'd never heard of before. But as he looked at him, something pinged on his mental radar, as if he should know something about it.

"Good evening, sir," he greeted, still trying to remember what it was he thought he knew. "Can I be of any assistance?"

"Yeah, sure," the hedgehog said wearily, shifting the bag he carried higher up on his shoulder. "I'm lookin' for a room. One night only."

"I believe I can accommodate you sir. What would you like? We have several suites available, if you're interested."

"Something basic," the hedgehog went on after a moment's pause. "I'll take whatever's cheapest."

"And how will you be paying today?"

"Cash."

Julian tapped a few keys on the computer in front of him, feeling somewhat disappointed once more. _Nothing really exciting after all. Shouldn't have gotten my hopes up_. "And who should I register the room to?"

"List it under Sonic."

Julian's eyes widened as the name finally jogged his memory and his brain threw images at him. "Blue Mobian Saves City", "Blue Blur Does it Again", "Mad Scientist Stopped; Hedgehog Hailed as Hero". A half dozen headlines he remembered reading in the paper suddenly struck him like a blow between the eyes, and he stared in awe at the mobian on the other side of the counter. "You're Sonic the Hedgehog!" He gasped.

Sonic blinked and gave gazed at him quizzically. "Yeah," he said slowly, "That's me."

Julian simply stood there for a moment, too shocked for words. Sonic shifted his feet nervously, but seemed very curious. "I'm sorry," the hedgehog said cautiously, "But I don't think we've met," he leaned forward and squinted at the uniform's burnished name-tag, "_Julian Rexroad_. How do you know me?"

Julian gave him an incredulous look. "How do I- Oh man, it was all over the news like last year! How you took down what's his face out in Western City. Robo-something-or-other."

"Robotnik," Sonic supplied with an odd note in his voice before pausing to scratch his head. "Are you saying that made news all the way out _here_?"

"Are you kidding?" Julian blurted in disbelief. "It made it everywhere! It was all everyone talked about. There are books and TV specials and all kinds of stuff! You were practically a celebrity! You mean you didn't know?"

Sonic shook his head with a frown. "First I've heard about it. But I don't get out much these day," He paused. "How much coverage did it get?"

"Quite a bit, actually. To be perfectly frank, it's not every day we see a mad scientist trying to take over the world. It was a break from all of the mundane news things people usually read about. Sure there were a few fires, some celebrity news, and some conflict on the other side of the world in some county I can't pronounce, but this was different. I mean, seriously, _everyone_ likes a hero."

At the word 'hero', Sonic seemed to stand a bit taller, looking slightly more confident than he had a few moments before. He reminded Julian of an old soldier, telling war stories. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

_Maybe there's a way to make this night entertaining after all_.

"You know," he noted casually, "they never did get the whole story on what _actually_ happened."

"You don't say?"

* * * * *

Behind walls of steel and secrets, sealed within a reinforced glass chamber, the creature lay in an inconspicuous puddle on the floor of the container, at first glance little more than a pool of water. But appearances could be deceiving, and Doctor Ivo Robotnik had already seen security footage of when the creature had been brought in. Freed from its icy prison, it had flailed at the glass walls with berserk fury, bludgeoning and stabbing with all manner of aquatic appendages. But the glass was still intact, thanks in part to the fact it was more than six inches thick, and wrapped with steel binding at strategic points.

Now, looking at the pool of liquid from few meters away, it was still hard to imagine it was alive at all. After a few minutes of attacking the glass, the creature had assumed this new form and had not made any further attempt to escape.

At the sound of metal scraping on metal behind him, he turned and felt rage fill him despite himself as Simon approached. He knew intellectually that form did not necessarily follow function and that he was being unreasonable, but he still couldn't suppress his fury as the very form of his hated enemy stood before him.

Despite the ultimate failure of the Metal Sonic prototype, the original design had proved far too efficient to abandon. Only a year ago, hundreds of d-series robots had resided within the confines of the Death Egg, frantically working to lift it off the Angel Island. In the end, all had been destroyed when Knuckles the Echidna and the never-sufficiently-damned hedgehog Sonic destroyed it along with the onboard production facilities. Only the damaged Prototype and two other models, d-148 and d-113, which had been at his underground headquarters at the time, had survived the holocaust.

After that, it had been more than he could stand seeing such a form in his presence. The prototype had been put in storage pending repairs, and the others' carapace had been stripped off all the offending features and colors it had previously worn, leaving only unblemished chrome where blue had once been. But even with the new covering, it served as a reminder of his failure (no, humiliation) at the hands of his foe.

By the time his creation reached him, however, he had once more pushed such unpleasant thoughts out of his mind. It helped that he had ceased to refer to it by its model number, which had only served to recall bad memories, and instead given it a more human name. "It seems you were successful, Simon," he said as the robot came to a stop, shedding flakes of dried mud.

"Yes sir," it replied simply, its tinny, apathetic baritone echoing hollowly in the vast chamber.

Robotnik nodded in approval at its efficient speech. _Indeed_ _a perfect servant:_ _Quick, pertinent, and proper_. "What do you make of this?" he asked, gesturing at the creature.

Simon turned to glance at the creature, then back to its master. "The creature-"

"Chaos, Simon." Robotnik corrected. "We must always use a thing's proper name."

"Very well," the robot continued. "Chaos appears to be much as you described in the mission brief, sir. Physically powerful, gelatinous in shape, and able to change shape seemingly at will. If you wish for a more detailed analysis of its physiology, it may-"

Robotnik waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, not that. Why is it just sitting there? It was moving around a few minutes ago."

"Any observations without further evidence would only be speculation."

"By all means," Robotnik urged, "speculate."

Simon cocked its head, an action programmed to trigger when it was processing a complex operation. Nearly a full second passed before it straightened it and looked once more at his master. "There are three logical probabilities, Master. First, the creature is suffering some sort of physical weakness and can no longer retain any form. Second, the creature is suffering some mental deficiency that does not allow it to maintain the form. Third, the creature is deliberately maintaining this form to escape detection."

Robotnik stroked his mustache, an action similar in function to Simon cocking his head, and then shrugged. "In any case, I think it's about time we capture its full attention. Are the probes ready?"

"They are, sir. I oversaw their placement and confirmed each was successfully implanted within the creature."

"Good," With that, Robotnik reached into one of his many pockets and withdrew a simple remote, consisting of only a dial-shaped control. Without pause, he took hold of the control and gave it a brief, gentle twist.

Micro-probes had been a difficult undertaking, in light of the issues involved in their construction. Building a mechanism only 100 micro-meters thick, even one as simple as the project required, had required a great deal of work. There were no moving parts, and their sole function was to channel power from the surrounding area and create a high-frequency pulse. In and of itself, this was of little use, but if the pulse was directed into a biological organism, particularly one possessing a high amount of latent energy to draw upon, it tended to causes certain adverse effects.

Namely, pain.

The creature seemed to explode as the pulse ran through it, a dozen appendages forming at random across its surface to claw at the air before sinking back down to the now agitated mass. The reaction was so sudden that Robotnik instantly turned the dial back down, but it was clear he'd gotten the creature's attention. It reared up off of the floor and formed the humanoid shape it had arrived in, its 'eyes' focused on the Doctor with dreadful intensity, marred slightly by the violent twitches and periodic quivering that ran through it.

Composing himself, the doctor took a cautious step forward watching the creature intently. "Can you understand me?" he asked, forming each word slowly and precisely.

Chaos didn't respond, merely returning his query with the same fierce stare. The Doctor waited several seconds, hoping for some sort of response, but to no avail. With a shrug, he toggled the remote on and off and watched the creature shudder violently, its form nearly dissolving before it could reassert control. It continued to stare, but now Robotnik could see something raw and primitive in its eyes.

"My assistant" he went on, "tells me he thinks you might be intelligent. If so, now would be a good time to let me kno-"

Robotnik jumped back as a bloated fist slammed into the glass, inches from his face, hard enough to shake the floor. He watched, fascinated, as the creature beat at its enclosure with mace-like appendages larger than a human head. So fast the blows came that Robotnik questioned whether the glass was strong enough to withstand it. Fearfully, he reached for the remote and Chaos sunk to the bottom of the container, quivering mindlessly as the probes activated with twice the previous intensity. A single weak tentacle tried to rise from the liquid, but it quickly dissolved as the pain overwhelmed it.

"Master."

Robotnik turned to his assistant, who stood observing the macabre display. "Yes?"

"What is the purpose of this activity?"

Robotnik frowned. "The answer should be obvious, even to you. This creature is clearly hostile towards us, and if we have any hope of wielding it as a weapon then it must be tamed." he paused a moment to readjust his goggles. "Not only that, I have to test the effectiveness of this system on the creature before I allow it to possess a single Chaos Emerald, let alone all seven."

Simon stood silent for a moment. "Understood," it said finally. "However, it appears prolonged use of the probes can having adverse physical effect on the creature."

Robotnik's eyes rose in surprise. "Adverse effects?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

Simon turned back to look into the tank. "The creature has stopped moving."

Robotnik whirled around and hissed as he looked down on the mass, which had ceased to quiver and was now spread sedately across the bottom of the container. Cursing aloud at his negligence, he deactivated the probes, hoping that there was no lasting damage. For a moment, the puddle on the floor lay still, and he'd just begun to panic when the mass slowly drew itself up, once more assuming the anthropomorphic shape. This time, however, something was different. Chaos stood hunched over protectively, and its eyes now lacked the fiery resistance it they had possessed only a minute ago.

Advancing cautiously, Robotnik watched the creature slowly retreat until it pressed up against the walls of the glass, as if trying to get as far away as possible. Curious, he hefted the remote and saw the creature cringe, clearly expecting another shock. The Doctor turned to his assistant, a wide smile on his face. "You see?" he remarked. "All it needed was proper motivation!"

Simon cocked his head. "Perhaps, but if it does not know International Basic, it will have to be trained before it can be used."

Robotnik nodded reluctantly and began to stroke his mustache, never taking his eyes off of the cringing form in the tank. "Maybe," His eyes narrowed. "Or maybe not."

"Master?"

"Increase thrust to forty percent and put us on a course for Central City. I think it's time we put our friend here to the test."

"Yes Master." It turned to go.

"And Simon-"

The robot stopped. "Yes, Master?"

Robotnik wrinkled his nose in disgust. "After that, have yourself washed. You smell like a cesspool."

* * * * *

Half a minute later, having given his instructions and cast a final glance at the majestic creature in the tank, Robotnik strode through the hatch, which closed automatically behind him. All was still, and then Chaos lowered its arms abruptly. The gaze it directed at the hatch was filled with contempt. And something else. Something that seemed alien to even its unnatural features.

Something like satisfaction.

Whatever it was, it disappeared quickly. The creature went limp and allowed its form to dissolve once more, waiting for its "Master's" next move.

* * *

(This is a revised chapter. Several corrections have been made.)

Thank you to Lupus Silvae for pointing out some of my mistakes. They have now been corrected.


	9. Price of Fame

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 9: Price of Fame**

"_It is plain to be seen that you have had little experience in this matter of adventures."_

_Don Quixote_

* * *

Officer Andrew Johnson watched with disgust as his fellow officer devoured his chicken legs with gusto, leaving a grimy coating on his fingers. Their patrol car was parked just off of Main Street in the Station Square district, only a few blocks from Old Town Hall. It had been an undeveloped part of town, as most of the big developers had eagerly snatched up the pristine ocean-front property to the east very early on, creating an unofficial city center away from the old one. When the Global Federation decided to establish itself here and rename it Central City, however, several parties tried to acquire property in the aging town. A few were successful, but the residents had been virtually united in their resolution to protect their native landmarks.

So it was that the impressive, nearly antique Town Hall, along with dozens of small parks and buildings, were still intact, nested in a veritable forest of high-rise hotels and skyscrapers. Despite the activity, however, the crime rate was significantly lower in the area, leading some police officers to take a somewhat lax attitude toward their duty. Despite that, and the general budget cuts the city had suffered, the department remained just as effective.

In theory, at least.

Which is why he found himself parked outside a fast-food restaurant, resolutely keeping watch while his partner, Officer Tom Bradmen, attacked his dinner.

As if the thought had been spoken aloud, the senior officer raised his head to glance over at him. Heaving a sigh of exasperation, he dipped his hand into his poultry-filled bag and drew out a dripping drumstick. "You sure you're not hungry?" he managed to say around the food in his mouth.

Absently shaking his head, Andrew turned to watch the pedestrians outside his window with a trained eye. A young couple walked by, pressing close together as they enjoyed their evening together. A shabbily dressed man stumbled along, loosely gripping the brown paper sack that was the cause of his unsteadiness. Another man sat inside the restaurant, reading a magazine as he sipped-

"Chill out Johnson," Bradmen admonished. The older man crushed the now empty bag and tossed it nonchalantly into the back seat. "You're taking this way too seriously."

Andrew turned once more towards the vehicle's other occupant and gave him a withering look. "I don't think we get paid to relax, Bradmen," he said disapprovingly. He paused, casting a meaningful glance at the other officer's midsection. "And if you keep eating that chicken-flavored-grease you won't get paid at all."

Bradmen's face reddened at the none-too-subtle mention of his current shape. His uniform's indigo fabric stretched dangerously as it tried to hold back his expanding waist-line, a sharp contrast to Andrew's lean, athletic frame. In fact, there was almost nothing in common between the two, with Bradmen being a twelve-year veteran and Andrew only a year out of the Academy. At first, Andrew had been grateful for the opportunity to work with an experienced patrolman, until he realized the extent of Bradman's 'experience' was in the field of doing as little as possible and still getting paid for it. Until now, Andrew had refrained from coming right out and saying it, but they both knew his weight would not allow him to pass the next required physical. And the way the City was being tight-fisted with funding, that meant his career would almost certainly end.

All the same, pride being what it is, Bradmen could never admit such a thing. He opened his mouth, prepared to refute the claim, but was interrupted by a burst of static from the radio, followed by a scratchy male voice.

"Charlie Nine, this is base."

Andrew reached for the receiver, but Bradmen waved him off before pulling it from his cradle. "This is Charlie Nine. Go ahead."

"Charlie Six is Code Eleven with a suspicious person at Third and Main. They've requested backup."

"Affirmative base," Bradmen replied automatically. "We are en route."

"Copy Charlie Nine."

Placing the receiver back in the cradle Bradmen sighed, then leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Andrew stared. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Taking a break," Bradmen said without opening his eyes.

"Tom," Andrew forced out through gritted teeth, "we have somewhere to be. _Actual work_. And, you've been on break for the last hour!"

Bradmen sat up suddenly, turning toward Andrew irritably. "Listen _hotshot_, maybe you're going deaf, but I heard loud and clear. Do you know how many suspicious persons we get every day?" He snorted in disgust before leaning back against the cushion. "If they needed us right now, they would have said so. So why don't you just sit back, relax, and shut the-"

"All units respond!" The speaker practically exploded with sound as the voice on the other end barked orders. "Code Eight at Third and Main. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired! All units respond!"

Bradmen sat for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Several seconds passed before he swallowed audibly and glanced guiltily at his partner. Andrew merely looked at the officer, who blushed anew as he reached for the ignition.

* * *

"Now that's just a bit hard to believe."

Sonic cocked a brow. "You think so?"

Julian leaned back in his chair and shrugged. The glasses on the table were full, but the ice had long ago melted, diluting their sugary contents. Neither one of them had taken a drink in some time, and the empty tables of the café bore witness to the time. As Julian had hoped, it had taken little to entice the whole story out of his new friend. Some simple flattery and a few glasses of caffeinated courage were all that was necessary to coax an epic retelling of the hedgehog's adventures. And while he was no storyteller, he certainly had a tale to tell. Julian knew, if only from what he'd heard, that the story would be incredible, but even so he found himself more than a little skeptical.

"It's true, you know," Sonic insisted.

"You mean to tell me," Julian began slowly, "That you took down a forty-foot tall robot, using only your bare hands?"

"Well, not exactly," Sonic shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I did have the Chaos Emeralds."

"You mentioned them before," Julian said with a note of curiosity. "The news reports didn't say anything about them. Just what are they exactly?"

"I honestly don't know," Sonic admitted. "I mean, besides the fact they're really old. I'd never even heard of them until Robotnik started looking for them."

"But what do they do?" Julian persisted.

Sonic scratched his head. "I'm not sure. Tails had this theory that they had something to do with emotions. 'Resonate', is what he said, I think. Basically, they feed on our emotions and turn it into energy, and the more of them there are in one place, the stronger the effect. And when all seven are together…"

"What's it like?" Julian asked, setting aside his skepticism.

Sonic shuddered. "It's incredible. I felt like I was invincible, like I could do anything." He shook his head. "I smashed that thing up, and it was like I was tearing through paper. Robotnik managed to get a few hits in, but I didn't even feel anything. And I was_ fast_; faster than I'd ever been before. It was-" He trailed off wistfully, his expression far off.

Julian leaned forward, interest renewed. "What happened to them?"

"I wish I knew," was the distant reply. "There was an flash, and then I blacked out. When I came to, they were gone," he sighed. "Perhaps it was for the best."

Julian blinked. "Why do you say that?" he asked, surprised at the admission.

Sonic said nothing. For the longest time, he simply stared into space, eyes unfocused.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

Julian watched the hedgehog silently, and then shrugged, leaning back once more into the worn wooden seat. The pristine suit thrown over the chair back slid softly as he pressed back against it, trying to fathom the Hedgehog's experience and failing. Mad Scientists, Giant Robots, Insane Doomsday devices; they were the kind of things he fantasized about when he was a kid. Even now, he couldn't help but feel a surge of envy for the hedgehog. He would have given anything to experience the kind of excitement that Sonic seemed to stumble into regularly.

"You know, I never did ask what brought you here to our nation's capital," he noted in passing. "Tracking down Robotnik?"

Sonic blinked. "Hm? Oh," he blushed. "Well, actually, I was going to go shopping before my shoe's got torn up."

Julian glanced down at the torn sneaker hanging limply from the hedgehog's foot. "You know, shoe stores are open late around here," he suggested. "You could probably buy yourself a new pair tonight."

Sonic shook his head. "Uh-uh. No can do. Gotta have these puppies custom made."

Julian turned once more to the scuffed, worn pieces of fabric on the hedgehog's feet. "What's so special about them?" he asked.

"Got a match?"

Ha patted his shirt pockets, then turned and drew a packet of wood matches from the lining of his uniform, proudly emblazoned with the hotel logo. Passing it over, he watched as the hedgehog brought the sole of the intact shoe into view and set one of the matches against the bottom. He held it there for a moment, and then gently tapped it against the ordinary looking material. Instantly, the head burst into flame, consuming the flammable head of the match before the hedgehog put it out.

"High friction material." He explained to a stunned Julian. "Without this stuff, there's no way I'd be able to maneuver at the speeds I move at. I'd just slide right over the ground. Not only that, but regular shoes either melt or fly apart when I run in them because they aren't built right. So I gotta order 'em custom, which means I have to wait till tomorrow until they're done."

Julian nodded in sudden understanding, once more awed by the curious creature before him. It never would have occurred to him to think of such a thing. "Pretty handy."

"Very. And they didn't used to have this stuff." He laughed. "I remember the first time I ran full out; I only made it about a hundred feet before they dissolved. I remember my Mom wasn't too happy about it. Made such a ruckus the neighbors came out to watch."

"Where was that?" Julian asked curiously, wondering what sort of place Mobians called home.

Sonic's face turned suddenly stony, and his mouth tightened. "I don't want to talk about it." He declared icily.

Julian's eyes widened at the sudden change in attitude, at the look of pain and anger in his companion's eyes, and he opened his mouth to apologize when the hedgehog suddenly shoved his chair away from the table and walked over to another table, fists clenched tightly. Julian bit his lip, wondering what he might have said to set him off. _Some mobian taboo maybe?_ In any case, it didn't look like Sonic was in the mood to chat anymore. Grimacing he stood up. "Maybe I should-" he began.

"It's gone."

Julian paused in the act of grabbing his coat and turned as Sonic finally spoke. "Gone?"

"Robotnik burned it to the ground to built one of his cities. Along with everyone in it."

Julian's guts twisted in horror as the words hit home. "Gods." He breathed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, "Sonic insisted. "You couldn't have known." He took a deep breath. "It was a long time ago. I've had it out of my mind for a while."

Julian said nothing; he didn't even know where to begin. His first instinct was to deny it, but the urge faded immediately as he recalled the emotion he'd seen in the hedgehog's eyes.

"I was out running when it happened," Sonic went on with the slightest tremor in his voice. "They never even saw it coming. By the time I got back, there was nothing left. He hadn't even given them a chance to get away. He rolled them all over, and then he put up an oil refinery."

"How?" Julian demanded shakily. "How could he possibly do something like that?"

Sonic sighed. "It was a small town. Most of us had never even seen an outsider. No one noticed when it went off the map. And even if they'd known, they couldn't have stopped Robotnik in time."

"How come this is the first I've heard of this?" Julian quavered. "Why hasn't anyone said something? If they came to the Government, hell, if they went Straight to GUN-"

"And then what?" Sonic demanded, turning on Julian with a harsh laugh. "You think your GUN would commit to a fight against someone like Robotnik, who they weren't able to stop from attacking just last year, on the word of a kid, to help a people they have no responsibility to protect? Do you?"

Julian wanted to say yes. Wanted to say he'd never believe they'd be so callous, but suddenly he wasn't so sure. Though it had never come to all-out-war, mobians and humans had never been on the best of terms. He'd heard stories about how xenophobic some in the military were, how single-minded the bureaucracy was. But it never occurred to him to wonder what it would mean.

Until now.

"I don't know." Neither one said anything for a long time. Julian heard Sonic inhale sharply several times, but he said nothing else. Julian watched the Mobian—no, watched _him_ in silence, letting thoughts flow freely through his mind.

In truth, he hadn't expected him to be like this. From the reports, he was supposed to be a cocky, courageous hero, and even with his inborn skepticism, Julian had automatically put him on a pedestal the moment they met. It was only now that he realized that there was a person beneath the bravado, someone that didn't just barge in at the last second, spouting funny one-liners and saving damsels in distress. Suddenly he didn't see a hero; he saw a kid that should have been in school, coming home each day to a family and friends. And it made him sick to think he'd been envious of him only moments before.

Sometime later, Sonic spoke up, his voice unnaturally calm. "I should probably be going." He said.

"Are you sure?" Julian didn't know why he said it, but for some reason, he didn't feel like leaving their conversation where it lay. "I could get you another drink if you want."

Sonic opened his mouth to reply, but closed it suddenly as a squad car roared past outside the café, sirens wailing and lights flashing, followed shortly by an ambulance. Sonic watched them go, then turned and scooped up his bag before turning towards the doorway.

"Where are you going?" Julian called after him.

"Wherever they're going." He replied without stopping.

"But-Hey, Wait!"

The musical tinkle of the greeting bell reached him just ahead of Sonic's fleeting goodbye, and he stared after him for a while before pushing back his seat and following after him.

* * *

I didn't post last week due to reasons of Christmas, as well as an opportunity to make corrections. There shouldn't be any more interruptions in the near future.

AM


	10. Juggernaut

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my beta-reader The Great Gonzales, without whom this probably would never have been published. Thank you for your patience._

* * *

**Chapter 10: Juggernaut**

"_If it is something that can be stopped, Just try and stop it!"_

_The Skullkid_

* * *

The Station Square City Hall was one of the oldest buildings in the city, built long before the Global Federation made the city its capital. In fact, it predated the federation itself, which was to celebrate its semi-centennial in October. Stone columns framed the front of the building, a rough, red stone that contrasted sharply with the white marble walls beneath the portico they supported. Benches filled the courtyard, which included a fountain, filled with the wishes of children made while touring the great building. Recently, with the rapid expansion of the city, the traffic had decreased, but many a proud citizen would gaze upon it with satisfaction, knowing that the business of their city had been done within.

But now, beneath the light of the full moon, there were no onlookers.

A hail of bullets filled the air, spawned by dozens of police pistols and assault rifles, forming a staccato of destruction that rained down on their unconcerned target. The small-caliber rounds impacted wetly against the creature's semi-transparent form, only to fall harmlessly to the ground, never penetrating the outer skin. In the midst of several abandoned squad cars, the creature moved with calm, deliberate speed, taking one fluid step, and then another as it approached the barricade of automobiles that blocked the intersection.

Crouched behind one of these cars, Officer Johnson braced himself against the steel frame of his squad car as he barked into his radio.

"-I repeat," he barked into the boxy receiver," requesting you divert SWAT to our location immediately."

"Clarify Charlie Nine, do you-"

"Incoming!"

Shouting curses, Johnson threw himself to the asphalt as a squad car flashed overhead and tumbled end over end through the formation. One officer was too slow, and cried out as the two-thousand pound projectile knocked him brutally aside before landing in a crumpled heap atop his vehicle. The creature watched its latest missile fly to its destination before turning towards the next nearest vehicle and walking towards it.

Johnson groped for his radio and brought it to his lips, coughing as smoke filled the air. "Repeat last Patrol."

There was static on the line, and then a new voice spoke from the speaker. "Charlie Nine, this is Captain Pritchard. What is your situation?"

"Captain, we have four officers down, I don't know how bad, and my partner took friendly fire in his vest. We need backup and paramedics ASAP."

"Copy Charlie Nine, we have paramedics en route and additional units responding."

"Negative, Captain, negative!" Andrew shouted into the microphone, "We do not need any more cars here! We're not making a dent in the damn thing! We need SWAT here, right now!"

There was no immediate response, and the sound of static joined the cacophony of gunfire and sirens as the firefight continued. Finally the radio came back to life. "Affirmative, Charlie Nine, we have SWAT in the air and en route to your location. ETA is 2 minutes."

"Roger Base. We'll try and hold out as long-"

"Get Down!"

Andrew threw himself once more to the ground, milliseconds before the car tore through the cabin of his own squad car before flinging itself off to the side and through the front window of a local deli. Hauling himself up, Johnson picked up his receiver once more and stared at the tattered cord leading to the crushed, sparking heap of plastic that had been his radio.

* * *

"Marvelous."

Leaning forward in his cushioned hover-throne, Robotnik watched the scene unfold on the streets below. From his lookout atop an adjacent office building, he had a clear and unobstructed view as Chaos advanced on the police position while they huddled pitifully behind whatever cover they could find. As he watched, the watery monstrosity took hold of a nearby vehicle with several fluidic tentacles, and then hurled it into the panicked formation, eliciting panicked shouts from the besieged officers. Robotnik grinned widely as several of their number turned to flee, oblivious to the calls to return from their fellows.

"Quite an apt demonstration, don't you think?" he asked, turning to his assistant.

"The creature seems to be quite powerful," d-113 agreed as it gazed impassively on the unfolding carnage. "And it appears quite resilient to normal weapons fire."

"Yes, it does." Robotnik said, never taking his eyes as his newest servant continued its rampage. As he re-situated his vast bulk within the chairs gel-padding, he allowed himself to dream of his day of victory. Of the day when he would bring his leashed creation before the world, fully endowed with all seven Chaos Emeralds, and demand its submission to his will. Not that he thought they would, human nature being what it was. But with the power at its disposal, Chaos could crush whole armies, and brush off even the most powerful modern weapons.

In time. All in time.

"Master."

Robotnik shook himself as the robotic voice awoke him from his reverie. "Yes, what is it?" he demanded irritably.

"You informed me that you wished to be made aware of any changes in the tactical situation, and that I should not act without your express permission, save in defense of your life." It stood quietly, waiting until Robotnik motioned for him to continue. "I've been monitoring the police radio bands, as per your orders. Special Weapons and Tactics officers have been called in to assist the officers on the ground."

Robotnik frowned, reaching up to stroke his mustaches idly. "Threat analysis?"

d-113 cocked its head. "Such reinforcements would bring with them significantly increased firepower in the form of heavier caliber weapons. Based on data collected so far, it is not unreasonable to assume such weapons would be more effective against Chaos. However, without further study-"

"Very well." Robotnik broke in. Eyes narrowing, he continued to massage his whiskers as the rhythmic beat of helicopter blades sounded in the distance. "It probably won't make a difference, but I don't want to leave it to chance. See to it that they never get here, then report back to me."

Turning fully towards its creator, the robot bowed. "As you command, Master Robotnik." There was a sudden whirring noise as the turbine in its chest revved up. At the same time, the automaton's legs split along the calves, revealing a pair of compact maneuvering thrusters and fins. As the noise reached its zenith, it sprung into the air, simultaneously igniting the thrusters with a burst of fire and sound. Then it was gone, leaving a trail of exhaust in its wake.

* * *

"One minute to touchdown!" Commander McLear roared over the sound of the engine. Around him, the SWAT team readied their weapons and donned their helmets, emblazoned with the letters of their trade. From their vantage point they watched the city speed by, eyes searching for the drop zone. Outside the open door, the other helicopter followed alongside, their team following suit.

"According to our last Intel, there's someone, or something, that has our officers pinned down outside City Hall. Whatever it is, their service weapons aren't putting a dent in it, So our job it to first secure the site, then take it out. You are authorized to use whatever force is necessary. Clear?"

They nodded as one, eyes intent as they prepared themselves for the worst.

"Second Squad will be following on our heels," he continued, "so as soon as you hit the ground you clear out so the other chopper can land. We trained for this, so let's do it right." He turned to the cockpit. "Anything new from ground zero?"

"Negative," the pilot hollered back. "Signal got cut off just after the call went out. We're going-What the hell is _that_?!"

* * *

Andrew counted to three, then bolted from cover, dashing for the relative safety of another car seconds before a monster-propelled vehicle crashed through his last hiding spot in a shower of metal and glass. Throwing himself to the ground, he rolled into the open door, reaching in for the receiver of the radio and cursing as his groping fingers found nothing. _Damn_ _thing must have gotten knocked loose_, he thought. Half-standing, he ducked into the car, only to come back out as he heard something over the sound of gunfire. Turning, he saw them: two helicopters, bearing the label "SWAT" in bold letters, coming into view from over the rooftops. _Reinforcements_, he realized with relief. He followed the choppers as they descended waiting with bated breath as they came lower and lower.

Then relief turned to shock as something screamed across the sky and tore into the first helicopter in a shower of metal and screams. Boring into the cabin, it cut through the engine and breached the fuel tank. Officer Andrew Johnson watched in horror as three hundred gallons of fuel ignited and a Station Square PD helicopter, and the eleven men and women inside, exploded in a massive fireball.

* * *

The cabin erupted in chaos as their chopper banked sharply to avoid the blast. The pilot screamed curses as he wrestled with the controls, fighting to keep his craft level. Commander clung to his seat, fighting to stay secure as the floor rocked beneath him. But as he watched the flaming hulk of metal tumble from the sky, a burst of silver rocketed out of the debris, burning through the night sky straight towards them. Hefting his weapon on instinct, he leveled his rifle and fired a three round burst at the projectile, which shrugged his fire off contemptuously before colliding with the tail of the helicopter. Abandoning his seat, he leaped to the door just in time to see what looked like a small, metal man pull back, then jam its arm into the tail rotor. But instead of messily removing the arm, the blades were sheared from their mounts and flung into the night air seconds before the metal thing flung itself away.

Without the counteracting thrust from the rotors, the vehicle lurched sickeningly as it began to spin out of control. Commander McLear, who had been leaning out the door, screamed as he was thrown out into the open air, but for the rest, there was no escape. Seconds later the gyrating machine smashed brutally into one of the nearby building and exploded, leaving no doubt as to the fate of the passengers.

Above, on top of the same building, McLear groped for a handhold as his legs dangled over thirty stories of empty air. The roof of the building was aged and pitted, but despite his best efforts, he could not find purchase. Suddenly his hand found a small, but firm grip in a small crevice, arresting his fall, and he grunted as he struggled to hold on. The impact had left him winded, and he didn't doubt there was at least one broken ribs, possibly more, but years of training and a rush of adrenaline had kept fingers from slipping. Straining with every fiber of his being, he grabbed hold with bold hands and began to pull himself up.

A shadow passed in front of the moon, and Commander McLear stared up into d-113's cold metal eyes as the robot settled on the roof above. There was a sharp click, and then a long, triangular blade slid out of a slot in its arm. As it looked down at him, there was no pity, no malice. No emotion of any kind.

"No," he pleaded. "Don't-"

Without hesitation, it brought the blade slicing downward.

* * *

d-113 watched as the screaming figure fell, tracking its progress until the noise cut off far below with dreadful finality. Its blade retracted with a hiss into its arm and it turned once more to City Hall, where its Master waited.

Then it whipped around to focus on a figure on the ground. _A blue figure._


	11. In the Line of Duty

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 11: In the Line of Duty**

"_Depend upon it sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."_

_Dr. Samuel Johnson_

* * *

Robotnik watched as Chaos threw the last car into the pile of wreckage that had once been a police barricade. Not that there were many police left. Those that had fallen had been dragged away by those that had not, and most of the rest had fled when it became apparent that their backup would not arrive. Only a few remained, resolutely standing their ground, occasionally distracting Chaos with pinpricks of fire. As the crumpled hulk that had once been a squad car finally came to rest, never having touched any of the scattered officers in the wreckage, a cheer rang out from the besieged men and women as they realized the creature had no more ammunition. Robotnik leaned forward intently, eyes on his newest acquisition as he wondered what it would do.

He didn't have long to wait. Without a sound, it charged forward, brushing off gunfire from panicked defenders. It swung a bloated appendage at the nearest vehicle, sending it catapulting through a brick wall. The officer that cowered on the other side gave a scream of terror and fired a full clip into the abomination, but the bullets dropped harmlessly to the ground, never having pierced the skin. With a single blow, the officer was driven into the asphalt, accompanied by the sound of cracking stone as the street gave way beneath him. Chaos battered at the broken form, driving it deeper and deeper into the ground until it was no longer visible beneath the rubble. It raised its head to glare at the others, who dropped their weapons and ran, their sense of duty overcome by the horror that they had witnessed.

It began low, a soft chuckle of satisfaction originating deep within Robotnik's throat, but it soon turned into a screaming cackle as the enormity of what he'd just witnessed sank in. In minutes the creature had decimated an entire department, sending the survivors running in fear. And it did not even possess the power of the Emeralds. If this was only a sample of Chaos' might, the world would surely be his!

He closed his eyes as the vision came to him, as it had many times over the last month. _In a televised event, with the whole world watching, President Schafer would reluctantly put pen to paper and surrender his nation. A grand palace would be erected in honor of the new ruler, from which Robotnik could watch as the world was bent to his will. All that opposed him would suffer a thousand deaths at the hands of his tame God. Including that meddling blue piece of-_

"Master."

Robotnik sighed as the robot settled once more beside him. "What is it, Simon? You took care of them I trust?"

"Yes," The robot answered curtly. "But there is a complication. After accomplishing my mission, my visual sensors made a positive identification of Subject 001."

Rage filled him. An unquenchable inferno that engulfed him, threatening to devour his sanity. All his carefully made plans, his grand aspirations, and his immediate control of himself were lost as he allowed the flames to consume him, filling him with their heat. "The Hedgehog?!" he thundered, his eyes burning as they focused on his assistant, as if they might reduce it to ashes. "Where?"

"Here."

* * *

Sonic stopped dead as his ears caught the burst of gunfire, still some distance away. He'd followed the sirens this far, hoping to at least catch sight of what was going on, but now he hesitated. Under normal circumstances, he would have been leery about charging into a gunfight, even with his speed. After all, he was fast, not bulletproof. But with the limitations imposed by his unprotected foot, he wouldn't be able to take advantage of his full abilities, and without his speed, he wasn't sure he would even be able to help.

He stood there, uncertain, part of him wanting to go back to the hotel and read about it in the morning, the other wanting to go and get a peek of the action. It wasn't until he saw a police car, lights flashing and siren wailing, flung through the air from an abutting street and into the wall of a building that he finally made up his mind. _Whatever is going on_, he decided, _it's at least worth taking a look at._ Sprinting as fast as he dared down the abandoned road, he stopped just shy of the corner and crept slowly towards it. The sharp aroma of smoke filled the air, and he could see plumes of fire-lit blackness drifting through the night sky. The sound of gunfire was deafening now, and as he approached, he began to hear panicked shouts. Swallowing, he leaned out to glance around the corner, but stopped, irritated, as he felt something in his shoe poke his foot.

_Probably a pebble or something_, he thought, bending down to pick it out-

-but leaped back in surprise as a man in the indigo uniform of a Central City police officer tore around the corner, eyes wild and mouth agape, never noticing the shocked hedgehog as he streaked by.

"H-hey, wait!" Sonic called after him.

The man didn't look back, or give any sign he'd heard. He simply continued to run until he turned down an alley and out of sight. Sonic moved to follow him, but the sounds of gunfire from the street brought him back to the present. Turning around, he leaned once more around the corner and felt his jaw drop as he stared into a pocket of hell.

Smoke and dust filled the road, and the air was thick with the crackle of fire. The street was trashed, with cars littering the asphalt as if thrown about by a cyclone. Bullet-holes pockmarked the walls on both sides of the street, and one shop had burst into flames when a fuel tank had exploded. On the far side, an officer struggled as she tried to drag one of her limp squad mates into an alley. Here and there, others could be seen, some lying where they fell, others weakly dragging themselves away from. None of the officers were left standing.

Except one.

A lone figure stood his ground in the center of the street, weapon at his side. The heat-stoked air whipped short brown hair into his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice. All his attention was focused on the creature at the other end of the street, just as Sonic's was.

He'd never seen anything like it. It stood like some monster out of a comic book, gazing about it with empty green orbs that never changed while it surveyed the damage. Finally, it turned its eyes on the officer, who flinched at its attention. The stared at each other for a time, neither moving, until the creature took a step, then another, then without warning leapt forward, flinging itself at the man with unnatural speed.

* * *

Officer Johnson watched his fellow officers flee with a rising feeling of panic. Any sense of discipline had disappeared the moment the creature charged, and he wasn't sure he blamed them. No training they'd undergone had prepared them for this, and their last hope of relief had literally gone down in flames. Under the circumstances, anyone would have ran.

_So what the hell am I still doing here?_ he asked himself as he stared down the watery monstrosity. _I should be gone like everyone else, trying to save my own ass. It's definitely the smart thing to do. So why am I still here?_

He already knew the answer. Running away was the smart thing, but not the right thing. _Protect and Serve._ It'd been his mantra his whole life, since that day when a lone policeman had charged into the burning bus to pull out the one surviving kid that had been too scared to move. He remembered the look on the man's face as he fought through the flames to find him, the determination and raw courage as he snarled at the flames, beat the embers out of his uniform, and coughed on the fumes. As he picked him up and carried him out.

He never found out the man's name, or what had become of him, but from that day onward, it was all he ever wanted to do. As soon as he graduated high school he joined the academy, and four months later, he'd graduated into the Station Square PD. Now, nine years since that day in the bus, _Officer_ Andrew Johnson stood amongst the wreckage, staring into the cold eyes of death as smoke billowed around him.

With a crooked smile, he slid his last magazine into the grip and waited for the creature to make its move. After watching it carefully, he'd come up with a plan. A risky, stupid, possibly even insane plan. In fact, it might even kill him if it worked.

But it was his only shot.

When it finally came at him, it did so with the same superhuman speed it had shown when first assaulting the barricade, throwing itself into the air with a single bound. Andrew brought his gun to bear, leveling it at his target as it drew closer. At the last second, he pulled the trigger, firing a single round into the creatures glowing green eye as he threw himself to the side. As he'd hoped, the creature flinched back from the deafening explosion of sound and the impact on its face, even though it didn't do any damage. But it didn't stay that way. One of its serpentine arms shot out and swept out and struck him in the chest as he rolled to his feet. The Kevlar body armor absorbed some of the impact, but not enough. He fell heavily to the street, gasping for air as it was driven from his lungs. Dazed, but conscious, he watched the creature turn on heel, then leap once more towards him. He struggled to raise his weapon, but he was too weak, and it was coming too fast. As it filled his vision, he closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to come.

But it never did. There was a wet slapping noise and he opened his eyes just in time to see a flash of blue collide with the onrushing figure, faster than he'd ever thought possible, sending it careening off course. The creature was thrown clear across the road, finally crashing through one of the few remaining intact storefronts. Meanwhile, the spinning blue mass sprang back from the impact and landing gracefully on the ground.

Well, almost.

* * *

"Ow!" Sonic hollered painfully. "Hot, hot, hot!" Kicking the burning remnants of his satchel unceremoniously off his foot, Sonic grabbed hold of the uncovered limb and rubbed it furiously_. I'll be lucky if it doesn't blister, _he thought irritably. _And now I have to buy a new bag too!_ Glancing over at the smoldering sack, he felt a glimmer of appreciation for the brand. Even though it hadn't been designed for it, the sturdy material had provided enough protection for him to accelerate briefly to attack, sparing his foot from being shredded by the rough asphalt.

Turning his gaze from the bag, he walked over to the human, who watched him warily as he approached. "Are you okay?" Sonic asked him.

The human nodded numbly and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. "Ya, I guess. What'd you do?"

"What do you mean?" Sonic asked, confused. "I hit him of course."

The man turned and stared at the store where the creature lay. "You hit him," he repeated numbly. "Okay, I'll buy that for now, Mister-"

"Sonic," he replied, holding out his hand.

The officer took it, and then frowned. "Sonic? Weren't you in the news, or something?"

* * *

(This is a revised chapter. Several corrections have been made.)

Thanks to Lupus Silvae and Chosenoneknuckles for pointing out some of my mistakes. They have been corrected.


	12. For Want of a Shoe

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_I would like to thank my Beta-readers, The Great Gonzales and Bruce Pendragon. Never could have done this without you._

* * *

**Chapter 12: For Want of a Shoe**

"_Lay on Macduff, and damned be him that first cries 'hold, enough!'"_

_Macbeth_

* * *

"Damn that rodent!" Robotnik shrieked. "How did he manage to find me?"

d-113 cocked its head. "It is possible that-"

"I wasn't asking you!" he snapped, then paused. "Though I suppose I should ask why you didn't stop him. I made his destruction your highest possible priority!"

"Sir," it pointed out, "You yourself specifically limited my interaction in this mission to those which you assign me. And as you know, while undergoing a mission, it is impossible for me to violate a direct order. I could not intervene until instructed to."

Robotnik ground his teeth. "Then consider this a direct order," he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth as he flung his arm out to point at the blue fur-ball. "Kill that hedgehog!"

"As you command, Master Robotnik," the robot replied immediately. Its turbine began to spin-

"Wait!" Robotnik cried out suddenly. As he watched the shop Chaos had been thrown into, a rivulet of water began to stream out of the wreckage, pooling on the sidewalk outside. It surged up into a column, sprouting arms and legs, and suddenly Chaos stood there, seemingly unharmed. "It seems our friend has some fight left in him."

"So you do not wish for me to intervene?" d-113 asked.

"No," Robotnik said with a frown. "In fact, I should probably modify your original protocol. Your model has already shown it is not an effective match for Sonic, and you are far too valuable of an asset to waste. I want to know how Chaos fares against him. And I want to see how loud he screams before he dies," And with that he leaned back in the chair, waiting to see how it all unfolded.

* * *

"Thanks for helping me out," Andrew said as he retrieved his service pistol. Hefting the comforting weight, he slid it into his holster with a sigh of relief.

Sonic shrugged. "It was nothing."

"No, it wasn't," Andrew protested. "That was incredible! It-" He stopped. "I must have hit my head or something. Do you have a phone I can borrow? I need to contact my superiors."

"Sure," said Sonic. "I emptied it out of the bag around the corner." He grimaced. "Before I do that, though I've got this thing in my shoe that's-Look out!"

Andrew dove to the ground, dodging the spear of water by mere inches as it swept through the spot where he once stood. Rolling to the side, he sprung to his feet just in time to see the same tentacle reach out to grasp at Sonic, who dodged nimbly out of reach. The appendage sprung back, retracting back into the amorphous arm of the creature, standing on the other side of the street.

"What are you made of?" demanded Sonic irritably.

The creature's only response was to fling out another tentacle, which swept around in a wide arc. Sonic leapt into the air, alighting softly on a nearby light-pole. Without pause the creature flung out both arms, bringing them together to crush the pole between them. Sonic waved his arms to keep his balance as the pole fell, then hopped back onto the ground.

"Can't we talk about this?" he asked shakily.

The creature ignored him, suddenly leaping into the air. Sonic crouched down, ready to spring, when suddenly it seemed to explode, sprouting a dozen appendages at once. Sonic leapt back as at least half of them stabbed through the space he'd just stood in and embedded themselves in the ground and the rest swept inward, coming at him from all sides. In desperation, he jumped into the air, using his powerful legs to propel him out of the way. But the creature had evidently anticipated this and was already reforming on the ground. All too soon the creature stood once more, while Sonic was still on his way down. As he descended, the creature brought its hands together with a smack, the two sinking into each other to form a single oversized arm. From this mass, a much longer tentacle erupted, crossing the distance between them with deadly accuracy. Instinctively, Sonic kicked out at it, knocking it away just as it came into range and allowing him enough time to reach the ground.

Andrew watched in awe as the hedgehog leapt forward, darting beneath savage blows with wild abandon as the creature renewed its assault. The attacks came faster as he closed in, but he dove through them with incredible speed, dodging what he could and deflecting what he couldn't, each move bringing him closer to his goal. It was a dance of death, where one missed step could be his last.

Then he was through them, dashing across the open ground as the racing appendages fought to keep up. But before he could get close enough to strike, the creature's chest exploded, sending a storm of needle-sharp protrusions flying outward and forcing him to throw himself out of the way. As he struck the ground, the pursuing arms dove in, coming from every direction at once. There was a blur, and then a buzzing blue ball drove through the grasping limbs, bouncing erratically off of them before being thrown clear. On reaching the ground, it ceased to spin, and Andrew saw Sonic stand once more and brush himself off. I_ can see how he defeated Robotnik_, he thought. _He's certainly doing a better job than we were_._ But he's got to do more than just dodge if he's going to win._

"Why don't you try that first thing you did?" he called out helpfully.

"I don't have anything to cover my foot!" Sonic hollered back, ducking beneath a sweeping arm. "If I do it again, It'll be shredded!"

Andrew gritted his teeth as he remembered the flaming sack, now completely burned out. "Isn't there anything else you can do?"

"Not really!"

Andrew watched the battle unfold, helpless to intervene._ My bullets can't hurt the damn thing, and neither can Sonic. If he's going to do something, he'd better do it fast_. It was, however becoming rapidly apparent that the hedgehog was running out of options. Even from this distance, Andrew could see that the he couldn't keep this up. The creature's attacks were relentless, and it was taking all Sonic had to keep from getting skewered. His mind went back to his old plan, and he wondered idly if it could still work. Nothing had really changed. In fact, with Sonic to help, it might be a bit easier._ If I can just…_

* * *

Sonic cried out as a grasping limb finally broke through, wrapping itself around his leg. He shivered unconsciously as the watery substance flowed over his skin. Yanking up sharply, it threw him off balance, sending him falling to the ground before it started dragging him across the asphalt. The rough surface burned he slid over it, but he quickly realized he had more important things to worry about as the creature pulled him in. Grasping at the ground frantically he sought something, anything to slow himself down, but he found nothing. He grabbed at the tentacle, almost letting go as it quivered sickeningly at his touch. He pulled at it, trying to unwrap it, but to no avail. It ignored his efforts, dragging him inexorably closer.

Just then a shot rang out, then another. The creature flinched back as Andrew's shots struck it in the face unexpectedly. For a moment, it was distracted, and its grip on Sonic loosened just enough for him to kick it free. Instantly, it turned back to its opponent, grasping out with the tentacle, but Sonic managed to evade it and get back to his feet.

"Nice shot!" he shouted gratefully as he scrambled back.

"Now we're even," the officer called back. "Listen, I've got a plan. Can you lead him over to the barricade?"

Sonic glanced over at the pile of cars in question. "I think so. What for?"

"Just get him as close as you can. I don't have much ammo, and we'll only get one shot at this."

Sonic nodded once before turning back to the creature, which was once more fixated on him. It wasn't attacking yet, which he hoped was a good sign. Slowly, never taking his eyes off it, he took a step back, then another, slowly making his way towards the barricade. The creature watched him impassively for a few moments, then started to follow, slowly then with greater speed. Sonic smirked as he led it onward, watching for any sign of attack, but it didn't seem like the creature was interested in its pervious strategy. In fact, Sonic was beginning to suspect it wanted to settle things up close.

He wasn't sure he liked the idea.

Finally, he reached the barricade, whistling appreciatively as he saw the cars, some stacked five high. "My, you have been busy," he taunted. "Do you know any other tricks?"

"Sonic," Andrew shouted as he jogged along behind the creature. "When that thing gets there, I need you to get clear. And stay out of the line of fire; I only have two shots left."

"Got it." Sonic replied, somewhat confused. _Get clear of what? There's nothing here but cars, and we already know his gun doesn't-_

And then he saw it.

There _was _more than just cars here. As he watched, a trickle of fuel dripped out of a gas tank onto the pavement. He took a closer look at the ground and saw that it was completely covered with the stuff. _Those tanks must have busted when that thing started throwing them._

_Oh. _

* * *

Andrew lined up the shot as he watched the creature charge onward into their trap. He'd spotted the leaks just as the creature made its move on the barricade before. And with so many overturned cars, it hadn't taken long for him to find a good shot: Squad Car 379, lying on its side on the edge of the pile with its tank completely exposed. He hadn't really thought it all out before the hedgehog arrived, but if he could ignite the gas while the creature was there…

_Boom._

Finally, the creature reached the pile, and without pause leapt upwards to where Sonic perched. At the last second, the hedgehog jumped off. The creature landed on the cars, and Andrew gave him to the count of three before he opened fire.

Both shots hit their mark, boring into the tank with the sharp crack of metal on metal. Andrew braced himself. Sonic curled into a ball. The creature began to turn.

And nothing happened.

_Oh, come on,_ he thought petulantly. _It always works in the movies!_

* * *

"That usually works in the movies," Sonic muttered. As he watched, the creature turned first to look at the source of the shots, then at Sonic. For the first time, it seemed undecided as to who to go after. _That was our last shot_. Sonic thought bitterly. _What are we supposed to do now? How are we supposed to defeat it now? And just what is in my shoe?!_

That finally did it. If he was going to die, he'd at least get something done first. With a feral growl, he tore his shoe off roughly and upended it, allowing the offending pebble to tumble out.

Except it wasn't a pebble. He stared down at the box of matches, stamped with the Station Square Family Resort logo.

_But...how? _

_Back in the café_, he realized numbly, _when I was showing Julian my shoes. It must have gotten knocked off the table and fallen in. And now-_

He bent over and picked the book up, staring at it reverently before turning to face the creature, still standing on the pile of leaking cars. _Bad idea,_ he told himself as he slid his shoe back on._ This is a Very Bad Idea! You are going to get yourself killed!_

Gripping the matches tightly, he reached in and pulled out one of the slender sticks, weighing it in his palm. _To think, _he thought with a chuckle_, such a small thing…funny how these things work out. H_e looked up the street, where the monster still hand't moved. With a sigh of resignation, he gave his legs one last stretch, wondering if it would be the last time he ever would.

Then he charged.

The creature seemed as surprised as he, and froze at the hedgehog's mad scream of defiance. But soon Sonic was dodging a flurry of tentacles. Bloated fists smashed down, seeking to pummel him. Spear-points jabbed furiously as they strove to skewer him. Sweeping whips swung around him, seeking to catch him in their wet embrace. Barreling through the chaos around him, he soon found himself at the outer edge of the gasoline pool. With a silent prayer, he kicked off with all his strength, at the same time dragging the match-head across the bottom of his shoe. The head burst into flame, and he let it drop as he rose over the top of the pile.

The creature watched him jump, and Sonic could almost imagine he saw a flicker of amusement as it lined him up. Its arm shot out, ready to deliver the final blow he could no longer avoid.

There was a flash of light as the burning stick ignited the fumes. Fire raced across the surface, spreading over the ground and into the ruptured fuel tanks.

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

"No!" Robotnik gasped as the barricade exploded, sending plumes of fire and fury clawing into the night sky. Shrapnel peppered the buildings surrounding the explosion, and the shock wave shattered what little remaining glass remained intact. The doctor gripped his seat as the wind buffeted his chair, and even d-113 had to struggle to stay upright.

Robotnik stared at the gutted hulks of the police cars, hope fading within him as the flames grew higher, continuing to feed on the fumes. Had he been too confident in his creature's abilities? Or had he underestimated the hedgehog? It didn't matter. Months of work and tedious research now burned within the inferno.

Abruptly, something stirred within the flames. From the heart of the fire came a high-pitched shriek, not unlike the sound of a tea kettle boiling. But no tea kettle could make a sound with such agony. The flames burst outward, and a figure leapt from the holocaust, completely engulfed in flames. It writhed as it burned, and Robotnik could see steam pouring off of it as it tried desperately to beat out the flames, but the gasoline fueled fires would not extinguish. Finally, with one last scream, it scrambled to one of the storm drains and threw itself into the sewers and, the rancid waters therein. Robotnik stared at the drain, eyes wild with hope.

_There were bars covering that drain_! he realized excitedly. _Nothing_ _could have gotten through them! Except…_

"I think," he began slowly, "What was Chaos."

"It would appear so," d-113 confirmed.

Robotnik shook his head. "Incredible. Simple incredible," He turned to the robot. "Analysis. Could it survive the trauma?"

d-113 cocked its head. "Insufficient data. But based on its body composition, and the average depth of water in a sewer, the possibility exists."

Robotnik stroked his mustache, eyes narrowing. "d-113, I want you to retrieve our friend. It should have some small amount of the traceable radiation in it, so it shouldn't be hard to find. If it's dead, bring it back so we can study it. If it's alive, then bring it back as well." He bit his lip, and then held out the remote to the micro-probes. "If it gives you any trouble, use this. Priority is to take it back alive."

"As you command, Master Robotnik," the robot answered as it took the remote. "And the hedgehog?"

Robotnik fingers froze in their stroking at that, and then resumed their ministrations. "Chaos is the priority here. We can always kill the rat later, but your sensors will have a limited range underground. If it evades use here, we may never find it again."

The robot bowed. "Yes master."

Robotnik watched his servant depart, and then turned back to the street, where fire-control vehicles were already starting to arrive.

"Besides," he assured himself, "he was probably killed in the blast."

* * *

The flames rose as they fed on the burning gas. An undamaged tank exploded as the fire reached it, adding its own contribution to the holocaust that reached upwards into the sky. Steam hissed as jets of water were directed into the flames, dimming their fury, but not able to extinguish them. More streams arced upward, raining liquid down and sending up clouds of vapor and smoke that swirled and eddied as the heated air rose into the night. The fire snarled and writhed as it was buried beneath uncounted gallons of water, but it would continue to burn for some time, fed by the fuel that had helped create it. The men attacked the flames with methodical efficiency, working their way around the edges before focusing their efforts on the center. Each man knew his job, thanks to countless drills, and every one of them was watching the fire intently.

So it was that no one noticed the dim light shining within the smoke. Floating without support, the ethereal form drifted through the blackness, occasionally changing direction, as if it were following something. Abruptly it shifted, turning towards the west, where a silvery object could be seen rising above the rooftops, carrying a glass capsule that swung from side to side as it flew. The light made as if to follow, then stopped and sank slowly to the ground, moving away from the site of the fire. It eventually came to rest atop a building that overlooked one of the adjacent alleys, where someone could be seen running from the scene, carrying a limp blue form over its shoulder. It came to a parked car, idling just off the road, and carefully placed its burden in the passenger seat before getting in and driving off with a squeal of rubber.

The light hovered overhead as it watched the car turn the corner and roll out of sight. For a moment it hung there, turning briefly back to the west, where the silver object continued to rise slowly into the night sky. Then it whirled around and floated the other way, following after the car as it raced down the dark city streets.


	13. A Matter of Honor

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_Thanks to The Great Gonzales for Beta-Reading for me. I really appreciate it._

* * *

**Chapter 13: A Matter of Honor**

_"We're all puppets, Laurie. I'm just a puppet who can see the strings."_

_Dr. Manhattan_

* * *

He was floating in a sea of nothingness, drifting slowly to the surface. Images came to him at random, swirling through his uncertain mind. _Are they memories?_ He thought sleepily. _Are they real? Does it even matter?_ He swam lazily upward, trying to reach the surface.

_Why? What was there?_

The images came faster now, flashes of a place he knew, but couldn't name. _It's…an island?_ His head swam as he struggled to focus on it. _And there's something about it…something familiar_. Another came to him, a gem, gleaming greenly as it caught the afternoon sunlight. _That's…important. I think. Why can't I remember?_

In time it faded, and another strove to take its place, but it slipped away from him. Frustration filled him, and he struggled to reach it, concentrating what he could of his scattered wits. Gradually, it cleared, and he looked down into a crater, its side littered with rubble, dotted here and there with flecks of green.

Suddenly he remembered. The Island, the Creature, the Emerald-

_The Emerald!_

* * *

Knuckles opened his eyes with a gasp. He shoved himself upward, and then slid back down as his vision swam and the ground curtsied beneath him. His whole body hurt, but he supposed that was a good sign since it meant he wasn't dead. He squeezed his eyes shut as pain lanced through his skull, and then slowly cracked them open again. He was lying on the grass, staring up at the sky as clouds raced overhead. For a moment, he almost convinced himself that it had been a dream, and that he had just hit his head, but he was quickly disillusioned as his mind realized the implications_. If I can see the sky, that means I'm not in the clouds anymore. And that means that, whatever's happened, something's gone wrong with the Island_.

He continued to lay there for some time, preparing himself to move once more. With a deep breath, he pushed himself up, fighting back the wave of nausea that assailed him. Finally, he managed to get himself into a sitting position, but something wasn't right. The ground seemed almost slanted, as if it were tilted at an angle. _I must be dizzy still,_ he thought as he made himself to stand. But as he gathered his feet beneath him, his body began to slide down the ground, and he was forced to grip at the grass to arrest his fall.

_It's not me that's unsteady_, he realized with a start, _it's the ground itself._

Slowly, so as to not court another wave of disorientation, he turned his head to look at the shrine, which rose out of the ground at a thirty-degree angle. The top was swept bare, and the Stone was gone. _So it wasn't a dream. It was real._ The Emerald really _was _gone.

He shook his head. If it was gone, he'd have plenty of time to worry about it later. Right now he had to find out where he was. Sliding off his gloves, he folded them carefully before putting them in the belt pouch he'd made for them. Crooking his fingers, he drove his hands into the earth and began to climb up the slope, the characteristic diggings claws of his people easily finding purchase in the sod. His head began to pound painfully as he made his way higher, but he pressed on resolutely The Island's edge rested high above him, but he'd long made it a hobby to climb the Island's peak, which featured many more treacherous challenges than this. Finally, he reached the top and pulled himself up over it.

Before him lay devastation on a grand scale. A gouge in the earth half a mile wide and a hundred feet deep stretched all the way to the far off shore, where he could see a small body already forming in the depression. Pulverized greenery was everywhere, mighty trees that had stood for centuries snapped into pieces or simply ground under by the Island's passage. Here and there, titanic chunks of stone could be seen, shorn from the Island's underside by the titanic collision. Directly beneath him, the stony slopes of the mountain were strewn with more fragments, and he winced as the amount of damage the Island had taken sunk in. _Even if the Emerald were here,_ he realized, _it might not even fly in this condition._

_But it could have been worse_, he reminded himself. _At least I made it to land._

Hauling himself up, he sat on the edge of what had once been a sheer cliff and looked down at his former home. Despite the trauma, the scene was almost unchanged. The shrine was still there, though he didn't know for how long, since if its foundation suffered any damage, it would no doubt slide down the hill. At first glance, his burrow looked almost intact, but on closer inspection, he saw that the hinges were no longer attached to the door, and through the space between them he could make out piles of rubble. _The tunnel probably collapsed_, he thought gloomily. _It's probably a write-off. And the books have probably been crushed._

He couldn't help but laugh at himself. _The Emerald is gone, the Island is sunk, my home is caved in, I have absolutely no idea where I am, and my most pressing concern right now is for my _books_?!_

He shook his head, noting with relief that it no longer made him dizzy to do so. Carefully, he pushed himself to his feet, conscious of the heights on either side of him as he stood. He looked down at himself critically, noting the occasional bruise or scrape he'd received during the night. Quite a few still stung, but the majority of them were already healing. The only thing still injured was his pride.

He turned his head to look upon the shrine, which lay tilted like everything else around him. With a sigh, he reluctantly made his way towards it, knowing he had to at least look. The grass was slick with dew as he made his way down, but he somehow reached the structure without slipping. The staircase was at too precarious an angle for him to climb, but it hardly mattered; the normally steep sides of the pyramid-shaped shrine were now tilted in such a way he could easily make his way over them. As he neared the pinnacle, he stopped to take a deep breath, preparing himself for what he knew awaited him. A few short steps later, it came into view.

It was as he remembered. The Emerald was destroyed. Around him, bits and pieces of the grand gem were strewn across the rock like shards of broken glass. The sun was just drifting over the horizon, but it was enough to see the damage in its entirety. And as he gazed down at the remains of his charge, Knuckles wondered at his peculiar reaction.

"I should be feeling upset, shouldn't I?" he murmured. "I mean, this wasn't supposed to happen." Perhaps he was in shock. Bending over, he picked up one of the pieces, and gazed into its depths. A thought struck him. "Maybe this is a good thing," he suggested. "I mean, the whole point was to make sure no one could use it." The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize what it could mean. "My job- hell, the whole Island's job- was to make sure the Master Emerald never fell into the wrong hands. Well, there's not much chance of that now. And if there's nothing left to guard…"

He nodded slowly as he spoke, bouncing the stone fragment in his hand as he did. His thoughts drifted to the books now likely buried in his den. Of all the things he'd wanted to do, but had never allowed himself to. To see the sights he'd only read about; to become more than just the Guardian of an island no one ever came to.

Of course, it would all have to wait. There was still one order of business to attend to. That creature that had so thoroughly defeated him the night before, destroying his self-confidence and his reason for living in a single moment. That thing would have to pay. Whatever it was, it would feel his-!

While thoughts of revenge filled his mind, his feet had begun to slide slowly down the sloped surface of the shrine. As he shifted for better position, his foot came down on one of the innumerable fragments littering the stone. This one, however, had an almost perfect point, and Knuckles cried out as he felt it prick the tender bottom of his foot. He jerked back from the pain, and his other foot slid out from under him. He fell to the stone in an undignified heap, and the shard he'd been holding slipped from his hand. It tumbled across the stone, rolling down the sloped surface until it encountered another piece lying on the ground.

Knuckles blinked as a small flash lit up his vision, and he turned to the source of it. On the ground, the shard continued to roll across the surface, but he noticed immediately that something was different. Pushing himself up, he watched the fragment continue its journey until it collided with the shattered stump of a column and lay still. Curious, the echidna made his way carefully across to it, mindful of the debris that covered its surface. He reached the stone and picked it up again, eyes widening. The original piece had been no larger than his thumb, and only a few inches long; this new piece was at least twice as large. A strange suspicion grew within him.

Bending over, he picked up one of the other pieces that littered the ground. It was larger than the one he currently held, almost as thick as his wrist. Bracing himself, he cautiously brought the two together until they touched. There was an intense light, and he almost dropped the fragments as they shifted in his hands, but he held on resolutely. When the light faded, his eyes bulged.

There weren't two pieces anymore. Just one, larger piece, as if the two had simply come together.

He scrambled over the debris, throwing himself into the crater at the center of the pinnacle. Inside, the large fragment he'd used to herd the Island the night before lay atop a heap of rubble, exactly where he'd embedded it. Reaching down, he pulled it out, straining momentarily before the rock gave way. Excitement growing within him, he touched the two pieces. The flash was far more intense this time, so much so he had to look away. The pieces slipped from his hands and clattered to the ground as the light faded, and he stared at what lay before him. The fragment on the ground was roughly pyramidal, rough on one side, but converging to a sharp point on the other, instantly recognizable as the bottom-most portion of the Master Emerald, reformed before his eyes.

He sat dazed, his eyes half-blind from the intense flash. Even in his stupor, however, he could see the possibilities. The stone was still broken, but what he'd just seen was pretty damning evidence that it could be repaired, if all the pieces could be found. If so, then he hadn't really failed. All he had to was gather all the fragments and use the Emerald to raise the Island up, and then-

-things would go back to the way they were.

He felt his spirits dim as the harsh reality finally struck him. He had let himself hope, if only for a moment, that he was free of his burden. That for once, he would be able to seize his own destiny, rather than be shackled to a rock. He briefly considered just leaving it where it lay, and damned be the consequences. _I could just walk away_. He mused. _It could take years for someone to discover the stone, maybe even decades. Decades I could spend living _my_ life._

But he couldn't. Someday, someone _would_ find it, and they _would _put it back together. The stone's power was beyond measure, and power comes to those who would use it. Eventually, it would find its way into the hands of evil. And then it would be over. Generations of Guardians will have given their lives for nothing.

"Damn." he muttered as he sank to the ground, dropping his face into his hands as he found himself a slave once more.

He didn't know how long he sat before he finally arose, but it wasn't long enough. Still, he'd wrestled his sense of helpless despair into something he could manage, albeit with some difficulty. His worn body crying for rest, he pushed himself up and gazed down at the green stone fragments embedded in the cliff face by the explosion. Hundreds of emerald specks winked back at him as the light of the rising sun refracted within them. It would take days to dig them all out by hand, maybe even weeks. Shaking his head with a sigh, he made his way towards the cliff.

"I should probably get started."

* * *

Tails grunted as he struggled to tighten the bolt, sweat dampening the fur at his brow. The wrench he wielded was comically oversized, and was almost too heavy for him to lift, but he'd needed the longer handle to apply the torque he needed. He pulled back on the lever, straining with every fiber of his being to force movement from the stubborn joint, and then gasped with relief as it shifted. Slowly, the metal sprockets twisted around until the head of the bolt came to rest against the metal behind. Tails stared at it for a moment, then unhooked the wrench and let it fall to the floor with a clang.

_Finished._

It wasn't a very big plane; he could have rolled it beneath the Tornado's wings without scratching paint. But despite its size, it was a great deal more sophisticated. Rather than a propeller, this plane featured a single jet engine, anchored to the craft's bottom, and had a single pair of wings instead of the Tornado's double. But it wasn't just the outside that was different. A half-dozen older projects were spread across the floor, having been scavenged for parts.

And now it needed was a test-flight.

With a sigh, he wiped the back of his hand across his face to clear the accumulated moisture, painfully aware of the burning sensations in his weary limbs and the grainy substance at the corners of his eyes. Yawning, he stretched out on the cold concrete floor, eyes fluttering closed.

"Just for a minute." He murmured. "Just need to….rest…my…."

Two hours later, when the morning sun came streaming through the windows, he still lay there, his head filled with dreams.

* * *

(This is a revised chapter. Several corrections have been made.)

Thanks to Lupus Silvae for pointing out some of my mistakes. They have been corrected.


	14. Divisions and Decisions

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_Thanks to The Great Gonzales for Beta-Reading for me. I really appreciate it._

* * *

**Chapter 14: Divisions and Decisions**

"_There is no certainty, only opportunity."_

V

* * *

Susan Hayson waited patiently as the council members took their seats around the conference room. The antique mahogany table they gathered around had been in the service of Station Square for decades, and had seemed doomed to collect dust when the Old Hall was retired. The city council, however, rescued it from that fate and had obstructed any attempt to have it replaced. Over the years it had required dozens of repairs, and very little of the legs were of the original construction, but the worn wooden surface still survived. Despite herself, Susan felt a surge of pleasure as she let her hands run across the earthy material. The wood had had a history; a history she was now a part of.

All too soon, she remembered why they were all here and sighed. She looked up as the last of the council members took their seats and glanced around at the assembled faces.

It wasn't the whole council. It was after all, merely an informal meeting, and the issue at hand was beyond the purview of those not present. Besides, if the mayor of Station Square called an emergency meeting of the entire council, it might cause people to wonder just what they were meeting about. As it was, only three members were present.

"Okay," she said finally, not bothering to raise her voice, "I'm sure we all know most of the details, so let's get straight to it. Jonas, have your people put an estimate together?"

All eyes turned to the thin, balding Director of Public Works, Jonas Darels, who nodded before pulling a stack of papers out of his briefcase. "We, ah, have a preliminary cost estimate, Ma'am. Exclusive of government property, we've estimated somewhere between six-hundred and, ah, eight-hundred thousand dollars. That's only an initial estimate, but the majority of the properties are insured, so there shouldn't be a problem if those number change."

"And what about the Old Hall?"

Jonas leafed through his papers, fingers running over the pages with practiced ease. "Ah, well, we actually got off pretty light there. There are some metal fragments in the outer wall, but we have people already working on that. The real problems going to be the, ah, windows. The blast blew most of them out, and it tore up a bit of the furniture with it. Fortunately, there isn't a lot of damage there either, so we should be able to have it cleaned up in about a month." He paused to adjust his glasses. "There is also considerable damage to the street itself where the explosion took place, and we'll probably have to, ah, close down the street for the time being. I don't know if you've heard, but we've got a pretty big crater there now. Pessimistically, we could be looking at several million to repair all the damage."

Susan nodded. Janet, the Director of Finance, wasn't going to be happy about how that would do to the budget. Still, she'd just have to cross that bridge when she came to it. And that was likely to be the least of it in a moment.

She turned to the other man at the table and felt a brief flicker of distaste. If she'd had a choice, she would never have considered calling him to something as important as this. Unfortunately, she couldn't conceive of any logical reason to exclude the Police Commissioner from this particular meeting.

Steven Worth was easily the largest individual in the room, and his broad-shouldered physique was impressive, though it was clear he had put on quite a bit of weight recently, little of it muscle. His silver-gray hair was beginning to show signs of aging, and sitting hunched over in his cushioned seat, he reminded her of nothing less than a silver-haired gorilla. Especially since he tended to act like one, earning him the unsavory nickname "Old Silver-back."

"Commissioner," she said, "you briefed me last night on the situation, but the incident was still fresh, and details were still coming in. Do you have anything to add?"

Worth's mouth tightened momentarily, shuffling the papers in front of him briefly before he spoke. "I'm afraid I do, Madame Mayor. At this time, I must regretfully inform you that two officers, Officers Bradmen and Knox, have passed away. In addition, there are still three officers still in critical condition."

Susan frowned. "Bradmen? I was under the impression that he just had broken ribs. What happened?"

"Apparently, he suffered a heart attack, shortly after he was admitted to the hospital." He grimaced. "It's likely that the injury exacerbated his condition, but it's possible the two are not even connected."

Susan shook her head. "I see," she said after a moment. "And how do things stand now?"

"At this time, we have a total of twenty-two officers deceased, and eleven more seriously wounded. In addition, we also have eight more officers who have been discharged from the hospital after having suffered minor injuries." He paused. "There are also at least twenty department vehicles destroyed or damaged beyond repair. Because of the confusion that followed the explosion, we are still working to confirm these number."

Despite herself, Susan flinched at the numbers. She'd expected it, but that didn't make it any more horrific. It was the worst incident in the history of the Station Square PD.

And it happened on her watch.

"Um," Jonas spoke up nervously, "have we determined that the, ah, creature is dead?"

Worth shuffled his papers needlessly, and Susan knew he was just buying time. "At this time," he began cautiously, "we have insufficient evidence to make a definitive statement. However, based on Officer Johnson's account, as well as corroborating materials at the scene, we are operating under the assumption it is no longer a threat."

Susan fought not to roll her eyes. _In other words, 'I hope so, but I'm not sticking my neck out to say so.'_ Towards the end, though, her eyes began to narrow. There was something in his eyes a second ago… "How _is_ Officer Johnson?" she asked casually.

"He was discharged." Worth said after a moment's hesitation. "We had him checked out, and it seems he's suffered only minor burns."

"Well," she replied, "there's some good news."

Again, that flash of something in his expression. Something that looked surprisingly close to contempt. _Perhaps I should look into this Officer Johnson_, she thought to herself. _When I have more time, that is._

"There is something else, ma'am," a voice said respectfully, and she glanced over at the speaker.

At nearly seventy years old, Molly Baide was the oldest person on the council, and also the City Attorney. Though age had diminished her vitality and whitened her hair, it had done nothing to halt her vigor. She was one of the most outspoken members of the council, and one to whom other members looked to for guidance.

"From what I've heard," she began softly, "we still don't know exactly what happened. But we do know that, whatever that thing was, it took everything we could dish out and kept coming. Including, she cast a side-long glance in Worth's direction, "two entire SWAT teams."

The commissioner's eyes narrowed. "Teams," he said stiffly, "which were shot down before they could engage it."

"But they _were_ shot down, Commissioner," she reminded him pointedly, "and we still don't know _how_. For that matter, we don't even know for sure it's dead."

"And your point is?" Worth ground out irritably.

"My point is, if this thing isn't gone, or another one shows up, what can your officers do about it?"

Worth opened his mouth angrily, and then hesitated.

Molly snorted. "That's what I thought. It's quite clear there is little more your department can contribute, if past performance is any indication."

Susan cursed silently as she watched Worth's eyes flare, and she knew she had to head this off before things got out of control. She didn't need the council at each other's throats on top of everything else going on. _Might as well take the ribbons off now anyway._ "I don't think that will be a problem," She said as casually as she could manage.

Everyone turned to her in surprise. Molly blinked, and then her eyes narrowed. "What makes you say that?" She asked suspiciously. "Do you know something we don't?"

Susan returned her incredulous stare coolly, and then shook her head. "No, but I reached the same conclusion last night. So I put in a call to S-7."

Silence filled the conference room. Worth gaped at her in horror, while Molly seemed too shocked for words. Then the older woman shook herself and affixed her with a stern gaze. "Ma'am, with all due respect, you would need to declare a formal state of emergency to request intervention. With all the rumors that must be swirling, doing so could start a panic! Do you really want that?"

Susan met the gaze of the older woman, and then smiled. "Of course not. And I didn't say I requested their assistance. I merely invited them to conduct training maneuvers outside the city."

Jonas grunted in appreciation, and Molly suddenly looked thoughtful. S-7 was the designation for the GUN division stationed at Alamar Summit, one of Station Square's neighboring cities. Strategically placed to be able to respond to various military threats, GUN forces could only be ordered by the president, but a mayor could request intervention from local forces during a declared emergency. By using the pretext of training maneuvers, they would be within arm's reach if something happened, and she wouldn't have to declare that emergency to get them there. It could only be done if the commanding officer was willing to play along, but if she pulled it off, she could quietly prepare for disaster without causing a panic.

"Elegant." Molly admitted after a moment. "Of course, it can't work forever. They can't 'conduct maneuvers' forever, and people would catch on if they tried."

"They wouldn't have to." Susan pointed out. "We only need to confirm we have the situation under the control. And I don't think that will take too long, right, Commissioner?"

Commissioner Worth nodded numbly, though she thought she saw a flicker of anger in his expression. Technically, she should have consulted with him before making the decision, though keeping the whole thing unofficial meant she hadn't been required to. Still, she expected she'd have to deal with him fairly soon. He wasn't the sort of man to take such a thing lying down.

But for now, at least, he wasn't a threat, and she turned back to the meeting at hand

"Well, now that that's settled, there are some other things we need to discuss. I'm giving a press conference at ten, and-"

* * *

Several hours later, Susan's secretary opened the door. "Commissioner Worth is here to see you, ma'am."

_That was fast_, Susan thought drily. She glanced over at the clock and thanked heaven for tight schedules. "Tell him I have an appoint-"

The woman jumped back with a squeak as the door opened behind her and Worth stepped through, and his eyes said plainly that he didn't give a damn what she was doing. Waving the secretary out, she waited for her to close the door before facing the man before her with a tight smile. "What can I do for you, _Commissioner_?"

Worth's eyes blazed at the pointed use of his office, and despite herself, she felt a surge of satisfaction. The last municipal election, only eight months behind them, had been close. She had been the Director of Education, advertising her successful campaign to eliminate wasteful spending, while he'd cited lower crime numbers during his tenure. In the end, the last minute revelation of "irregularities" in the tax records of a certain Steven Worth had led him to drop out of the mayoral race. Unfortunately, he had run essentially unopposed for his current position, which means she would have to put up with him at least until the next election. But despite the good graces that allowed him to keep his office, he clearly resented her for "stealing" the election from him.

Which only made the current situation worse.

"Madame Mayor, I must protest-"

"You will protest nothing, _Commissioner,_" she broke in firmly. "Especially when you come barging into my office uninvited."

"Ma'am," he said, seeming to bite off every word, "whether you like it or not, I am the Police Commissioner here in Station Square. And that means that protecting this city is my job. If you think you can simply go over my head to make these kinds of decisions, you're sadly mistaken."

Susan felt her pasted-on smile slip a fraction. "If I understand correctly," she explained calmly, "you were rather occupied last night, trying to contain the situation. I believed you didn't need the additional distraction."

"With all due respect, ma'am," he objected tightly, "that wasn't your call to make."

"Yes, Commissioner, it _is_ my call." His eyes flared, but she ignored it, continuing to speak in the same, level tone of voice. "I'm the one sitting in this chair, and that means this city is my responsibility. Regardless of whether or not you should have been informed. I acted within the law and in the best interest of the people of this city."

"One person in particular."

Susan stiffened in outrage. "And what do you mean by that?"

Worth snorted and sat down across from her, eyes filled with contempt. "You don't think I see what you're doing? You're calling those troops in to show me up; to say how 'incompetent' and 'irresponsible' I've been."

Susan stared at him. This was something new from him, and the suddenness of it took her off guard. "I can assure you, Steven," she replied, using his first name for perhaps the first time, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Even if it was true, what possible reason could I have for doing it?"

"What reason?" he snarled. "You don't think I know it was you that dug up those tax records? The one who oh-so-conveniently gave them to the press just before the vote? Ha! You can play the impassioned statesman all you want, but I know the truth. You want me gone, don't you?"

Susan felt her mouth try to drop open, as he went on. _My god, he really believes it._ It sounded crazy, but she could think of no other reason for him to be coming in this way.

_And he thinks I'm scared of him._

Outrage filled her, and she glared at the man who sat smugly before her_. He thinks he can come into my office and bully me into doing what he wants? _She was gathering herself to snarl back at him when the door to her office opened. Worth stood and turned around, staring down at the squirrel standing in the doorway.

"What the hell is this _fur ball_ doing here?" he demanded angrily.

It was too much. Her hand crashed down explosively on her desk, loud enough that he whirled around to stare at her. His opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the chance. "Doctor Richards," she managed to bite off, "has an appointment. Which is more than I can say for you. And if you think I'm out to get you now, just try calling him that again."

He opened his mouth to give an angry retort, and then stopped. He stared at her, and the anger in his eyes melted away in the face of her own towering fury. He took an involuntary step back as she leaned forward, pressing her clenched fists against the top of her desk.

"Get out of my office. _Now."_

He didn't even protest. fHe merely walked numbly through the door.

No one spoke for the longest time. Then the squirrel chuckled. "My, my, you seem a _bit _upset."

"I'm sorry about that, Pat," Susan apologized raggedly. "It's just-"

Pat held up his hand. "It's alright. I've heard worse, after all."

Susan shook her head. "You shouldn't have to hear it, and you know it." She gritted her teeth. "And if I ever hear him say it again-"

"Now don't you start," Pat admonished sharply. "That man came in here and accused you of doing what you're thinking about doing right now. Don't you go prove him right."

Susan took a deep breath, and then smiled sheepishly. "You're right, of course." Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know he said that?"

Pat gave her a mischievous look. "The walls are pretty thin around here, Suze. And from the sound of things, it's good I came in when I did."

Susan laughed and leaned back in her chair as he hopped up on the seat. Pressing back into the cushioned seat, he pulled his bushy tail out and laid it across his lap with a sigh. "Now why can't we have chairs like this in the field?"

Susan smiled fondly at the gray squirrel. Twenty years ago, they both attended classes at West City University. She'd majored in law, while he had received a doctorate in archaeology. They'd kept in touch since then, so she knew he'd moved from dig-site to dig-site until he heard about Echidna artifacts found to the South. Since then, he'd bought an apartment in the city, where he stayed between trips to the dig sites in the so-called "Mystic Ruins."

"So what can I do for you?" she asked when he seemed settled in.

Pat smirked. "Well, I could use a cup of tea, but what I'd really like to know is what you're doing with my rescue expedition."

Susan blinked. "Rescue?" she asked, puzzled.

Pat sighed. "Don't you remember? I called you up on Tuesday? Told you I'd finally managed to get those GUN people on board with a search party?"

She flinched. "Oh. _That_."

"Ya," Pat said, expression very serious. "I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but my last expedition into the jungle is almost a four days overdue for a check-in. I was promised a search team, but now I hear it's been scooped up, along with the whole damn S-7 for 'training.' And a little birdie told me it was on _your_ say-so."

"I'm so sorry Pat," she said sincerely. "With all that's going on…"

"Water under the bridge, Suze" he said with a flip of his hand. "Just see what you can do to break some people loose for that search."

"I'll get right on it." She paused. "You could have called about that. Why the appointment?"

"Why? To see you, of course! It's been, almost a year since I last saw you. I hear you've come up in the world since then, and I'm not leaving until I hear all about it."

* * *

"-was a pain getting it approved, and you could probably hear them screaming in West City."

Pat chuckled. "See? You're making friends already!"

"Ya, I guess you could say that," Susan muttered. "Unfortunately, it could make things a bit dicey, come next election."

"Hmph, tell me about it. The Archaeology Institute is getting a bit tight-fisted too. I might want to bring a club when I go to get our funding renewed."

"Speaking of which," Susan asked, "how's the dig?"

Pat grimaced.

"That bad, huh?"

"It was promising at first," Pat said wistfully. "We found some pottery fragments and a couple of sculptures, but since then we've dug up zilch. Now everyone's lost in the jungle, so there's no one left to work." He sighed. "And if I don't get my people back, the site's going to be dead for good."

"I'm sorry."

Pat waved his hand flippantly. "Don't be. Hell, we'll probably find a better dig somewhere else anyway."

Susan gazed pensively at him. "You don't believe that."

Pat looked back at her, and then shook his head. "No, I don't. _Everything_ fits: the time period, the artwork, the location. It should be there…and it isn't."

Silence filled the room as Pat took a long drink of tea before setting it down on the saucer. Suddenly he looked up. "You know, I never did hear back from you about those documents I asked about."

Susan shook her head. "I'm sorry Pat, it wasn't there."

"It's got to be there," he protested. "I'm the only one who's been looking for it!"

"Apparently not. From what I've heard, they think it was stolen."

"Stolen? By who?!"

"I don't know, and they didn't say.

"Damn."

She looked him in the eye. "Is it really that important?"

Pat snorted. "Suze, this is Professor _Gerald Robotnik_ we're talking about. You know, the guy that _built_ the ARK and all that? I can guarantee you whatever research he did is better than what we've put together today. I've got records that say he was there, in the Mystic Ruins, at a dig, over fifty years ago. If there's anything to find there, I'd stake my life he found it," He sighed. "And that was the only one you found?"

"Pat, fifty years is a long time. I was lucky to find anything at all."

Pat sighed regretfully, and Susan bit her tongue. She hated not telling him the truth, but she didn't have a choice. The official report was bare, providing very little details about the incident. But a friend in GUN HQ had slipped her a chilling tidbit that hadn't been made public.

According to witnesses, the thief had been a machine of some sort. And while it had left little behind, a few scraps with some sort of serial numbers had been recovered

Serial numbers that were strikingly similar to those found during the Green Hill Incident.

An incident concerning a man calling himself _Doctor Robotnik._

_

* * *

_

(This is a revised chapter. Several corrections have been made.)

Thanks to Lupus Silvae for pointing out some of my mistakes. They have been corrected.


	15. Neglect

**_Disclaimer :_**_ Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work._

_Thanks to The Great Gonzales for Beta-Reading for me. I really appreciate it._

* * *

**Chapter 15: Neglect**

_"Treason against the state is a form of insanity, yes."_

_Victor Cachat_

* * *

Groaning fitfully, Sonic shifted beneath the covers. A gap in the curtains had opened, spilling sunlight across the bed. When the rays spread across his face, his complaints grew louder, and he turned away from it instinctively, burying himself deeper beneath the blankets. Tranquility restored, he fell once more into a calm slumber.

But while his body slept, his mind was filled with strange images.

* * *

Beneath the ground, in the cool darkness of the burrow, a beacon of candle-light made its way through the tunnels. Roots weaved themselves through the ceiling, seeking the soft soil on the ground below. Illuminated by this light was a pair of figures, their red fur seeming to smolder in the soft glow of the flame.

Holding the candle high, Tikal glanced back apprehensively at the man behind her, trying to figure out what to make of the stranger.

Guardsman Copan followed silently in her wake, his eyes scanning the alcoves that lined it as he passed by. The silver chain of Captain of the Watch shone about his neck in the sparse light, which was unusual, to say the least, for a man of only twenty-four. Many had protested his lack of seniority, but the Lord Captain himself had insisted on his elevation. It didn't help that he looked even younger than he was; the tips of his spines hung about his jaw-line, whereas the other Captains' were well past their shoulders, and he still seemed to move with the awkwardness of adolescence.

Whatever his outward appearance, it only took a single glance into the guardsman's dark, stony eyes to see he was no child .

As Tikal led her guest down the earthen halls of the burrow, the same thought crossed her mind, and she couldn't help but feel intimidated by his presence. The fact that he was well over four feet tall, when she wasn't four foot herself, didn't help, and neither did the short sword and cestus hanging from his belt. Still, he'd been very polite when he arrived, and overall, he seemed pretty nice. As they neared the door to the study, she gestured for him to wait before knocking quietly. "Father?"

As she stood listening, she heard the sound of crackling parchment from within. "Come."

Unlatching the heavy door, she stepped into the study, where her father sat atop a pile of cushions, reading from a scroll. He glanced up as she entered, and she almost turned away at the emptiness of his expression as he looked at her. "I take it Captain Copan has arrived?"

She nodded. "He has."

"Please let him in."

There was the sound of footfalls behind her, and she turned to see the Copan standing in the doorway. "Lord Captain Pachacamac," he said with a bow.

His face splitting with a grin, her father made to stand. Coming quickly to his side, she reached out and took his arm as he pulled himself up, wobbling slightly as leg struggled to support his weight. Having been pierced by an enemy arrow, the injured limb wasn't strong enough for him to sit or stand unaided. He was much larger than her, and his thickly-muscled frame was difficult to lift, but she'd gotten a great deal of practice over the last month, and she slowly helped him to his feet. Finally he stood erect, and turned to extend a hand to the Copan as he entered the room. The Captain took it gingerly, and he laughed.

"Captain, I can assure you I am not as fragile as you seem to think. You need not act as if I were glass."The younger echidna blushed, and her father nodded in satisfaction as his grip tightened. "Better."

They stood silently for a moment, and then her father cleared his throat and turned to her. "That will be all. You may leave us now."

Nodding politely, she turned and made her way out, closing the door behind her. Or so it seemed. A tiny space remained between the door and the frame, leaving a tiny window into the room. Turning on heel, Tikal let a frown spread across her face as she bent down to peer inside.

By the day, it seemed, her father had become more and more aloof from her. She'd tried to break through the wall he'd erected about himself, but she'd made little progress. And since he'd gotten back from the war…it'd been worse. The way he'd treated her, as if she were some sort of servant to be called on or dismissed at his whim, had been practically unbearable.

She'd had enough. If he thought what he was discussing was so important, she wanted to know what it was. And so, in defiance of her better judgment, she leaned in close to look inside.

"–very proper," Copan said. "I must admit, your daughter is a very dutiful girl."

"She sees to her chores quite well, yes," her father replied with a nod. "And she has kept well during the Campaign."

"So I understand. She has resumed her mother's duties in the Library as well, yes?"

For the briefest moment, a flicker of pain crossed her father's face. "Yes," he answered softly, "she has."

At that, Tikal felt a familiar pang of loss, but put it out of her mind. It had been difficult coming to terms with her mother's death, but she only been eight when it happened, and she'd eventually come to accept it. Her father, however, had been her mate for nearly a decade before Tikal was born. After she died, he came apart. Even now, after more than seven years, Tikal wondered if he'd truly recovered.

An awkward silence followed, which Copan broke first. "Ah, I suppose you'll be seeking news from the front."

"Indeed." The annoyance in her father's voice could not have been any more blatant if he'd shouted. "I have to say, I find it quite inconvenient to be so far afield from the battle-lines I'm supposed to be commanding. But come, let us sit."

"Of course, Lord Captain." Copan glanced pointedly at the elder echidna's injured leg. "Will you need any help to-?"

"I am not so helpless for that," her father insisted. "Find yourself a seat, and make yourself comfortable."

Hesitating only a moment, the Captain sat down, watching with acute discomfort as his superior lowered himself with agonizing slowness, groaning occasionally. As she watched, Tikal rolled her eyes. _So stubborn,_ she thought irritably. Eventually, however, he found himself seated once more, taking a moment to clear away the scrolls he'd been reading earlier.

"I do apologize for recalling you so suddenly," he said once he was situated. "I do hope it will not have any unfortunate repercussions."

"The commanders know their duties well, Lord Captain," Copan assured him. "I'm confident in their ability to finish the final phase of the operation."

"It's over then?"

"Almost certainly," he confirmed. "The bulk of their army was defeated in detail outside the Lupine capital, and the rest were in disarray. The Legions had begun a siege of the city when I departed, and it's almost certainly fallen by now. With their capital taken, and their allies along our border conquered, they'll have no choice to surrender."

Her father sighed. "Fools all. They should never have attacked us. And now it seems they weren't even half the threat they appeared to be." He grimaced. "It's going to make it impossible to justify further expeditions to the Imperial Council."

Tikal's eyes widened_. Further expeditions? _she asked silently. _Why would we need-_

"Is it really that bad, sir?" Copan asked intently.

"I'm afraid so. The Council has officially declared an end to military operations, effective two months from now." By her father's tone, she expected him to spit on the floor in disgust.

"Fools," Copan hissed. "We're so close. Can't they see what will happen if we let up now?"

Her father snorted. "Oh, they know. Not even they were foolish to believe we were safe after those Lupine barbarians raided our border. That's why they signed off on the expedition to begin with. But they're afraid that if the Legions continue expanding, they won't be able to maintain control."

"Damn those filthy cowards!" There was a scuffle as Copan burst to his feet and began to pace around the room. "They have no idea what they're doing! They think the Lupines are the only one that will take the fight to us? Especially now that we've shown ourselves to be a threat? Their neighbors, any of them, perhaps even all of them, will surely invade the moment our resolve wanes!"

"And what would you suggest, Captain?" her father asked intently.

The Captain stopped in his pacing, then turned to face him. "Take them out now," Copan replied harshly. "Suppress the threat before they can consolidate to challenge us. If we give them time to match our strength, they will surely destroy us."

Neither one spoke for a moment, and Tikal felt her eyes widen with horror. _What an absolutely dreadful person! _she thought_. And to think, he was so polite before. _

"For what it's worth, Captain, I agree with you," her father replied, and she swayed unsteadily as the shock of his words threw her for a loop. "But what we believe really doesn't matter, does it? Whatever we know to be true, the will of the Council is absolute, and they will never agree to continue operations."

"Are you so willing to accede to the will of those power-hungry fools?" Copan snapped. "Sir, you of all people should know what the savages beyond our borders are capable of."

Her father stiffened, and Tikal saw something raw and ugly burning in his eyes as he looked up at the other man, appearing only for a brief instance. Abruptly, he turned away. "Yes," he said quietly. "I do know."

"And yet you will abide this insanity?" Copan pressed.

"Will you?" her father replied quickly.

Copan stared at him for a moment, eyes as hard as flint. "No," he said finally. "I will not sit idly by while the Council destroys our county. And if my words condemn me here, then so be it."

Silence filled the room, and Tikal held her breath_. This man is dangerous_, she realized. _He's as good as admitted he intends to commit treason! _Slowly, began to back away from the door, preparing to run for help.

What came next stopped her in her tracks.

"To the contrary, Captain," her father said. "That was exactly what I wanted to hear."

Copan seemed taken aback for a moment. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

Her father smiled coldly. "You're not the only one who feels this way, Captain," he said grimly. "And I've known this was coming for some time. So I decided to make some 'preparations,' should the Imperial Council and I find ourselves at an impasse."

Tikal's head was spinning. _Preparations? What did he mean by that?_

Taking a seat once more, Copan gazed appraisingly at her father, eyes narrowed. "And the council remains unaware of your 'preparations?' "

"Of course they know." Her father laughed at Copan's saucer-wide gaze. "Come now, Captain, you didn't expect them to be so accommodating, did you? In fact, the only reason they haven't denounced me is because our campaign has made me something of a hero, and they aren't willing to confront me openly until that popularity dies down."

"But how does that help us- uh, I mean _you_?" Copan protested, blushing when his superior chuckled at his misspeaking before moving on.

"Well, as it just so happens, the Council is concerned that I meant to take some preemptive action against them before they can have me removed, so they've recalled the Third and Fourth Legions, under the command of Lord Chavin, to reinforce the city guards, should I attempt to call the army to assist me in my insane venture."

Despite her horror, Tikal found herself blinking. She'd heard that name before. Her father and Lord Chavin had been bitter rivals for years, ever since he had been appointed the position of Lord Captain before him, despite having less experience.

"Of course," her father went on with the same cold smile, "everyone knows for a fact that Chavin and I despise each other with a passion. A belief I've encouraged on many an occasion."

"What people don't know, however, is that he and I have long since come to an understanding. Which will make it something of a surprise when, after he has taken the Council into protective custody following a 'failed assassination attempt' by dissident Lupines, he allows me to assume the role of interim governor, until the crisis is averted."

"At which time," he concluded, "I will need someone of the proper temperament to assume my former position…"

Silence ruled as he trailed off, and Copan gazed intensely at the man before him.

"So what do you say, Captain…or should I say _Lord Captain_?"

* * *

The two Captains issued forth from the room some time later, chatting amongst themselves like old friends. They turned down the tunnel, but stopped at the sound of footsteps behind them. Turning, they saw Tikal, bearing a tray of fresh fruit. "I thought you might be hungry," she said, smiling.

Murmuring a polite refusal, Copan returned to the conversation. Her father said nothing, merely taking the candle she held from her with a nod before continuing down the passage. In a few moments, they were out of sight, nothing more than a speck of light fading into the dark.

Echidnas have excellent night vision, so she was able to make her way back to the pantry without dropping too much along the way. But as she neared the cooler, her steps began to falter. The tray began to tremble, spilling its contents on the ground. When she reached the counter, she set the platter down, empty.

Then her legs gave way beneath her, and she buried her face in her hands as she allowed her tears to fall at last.

* * *

_Well, this has been a long time coming. I'm sorry to say I got a little side-tracked writing another story._

_For all my readers, I'm sorry to make you wait. The next chapter should be ready next Wednesday._

_Thank you._


End file.
